#my program should have been renewed so I could keep doing work-training but now it might get renewed too late so I end up with

[kreftropod]

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[readingloveswounds]

hello! if you could go back in time, and when you got into your PhD you also got a normal job offer, what would you do? asking this bc I’m hypothetically trying to understand what to do if I get into a PhD but I also get a decent job offer 🥶 I would love to do a PhD for so many reasons, but I’m so worried about potentially having to get into the world of normal employment after getting such a prestigious degree. ideas? thoughts? I really appreciate your insight ☺️

Hi! That's a tough one, honestly, and I'll try to do my best to give what advice I can. This is sort of disjointed, but here's some of the factors to consider.

My short answer is - I would choose the PhD. I could not see myself having a job other than this degree at the time, and even now, knowing what I know, I would still want to do it. I know the job market is terrible and academia is not the most stable, but even if I have to turn away from it completely at some point during my life, it will have been worth doing the degree.

For some background, I had a job for the year between my BA and my PhD and could have definitely tried to renew my contract for another year - this was in fact my backup plan A. One of my professors in undergrad said 'if you just want to teach, just get a masters' - i.e. you need to think about WHY you want to do a PhD.

I probably could have continued to work for the éducation nationale, gone back to the US and done a teaching certificate, or tried to enjoy/relearn coding enough to go for a job, but I really could not see myself being fulfilled without the PhD work.

Some things to consider:

will work experience be in your favor should you take the job and then decide to apply to a PhD a few years later?

It is my understanding that sometimes industry experience can be helpful, especially in STEM degrees, though as always, your mileage may vary. Teaching for a year before my PhD made me a more confident teacher once I got there.

Your general financial situation.

Most US PhDs are funded but they are not always funded very well. Are you okay being paid poorly for hopefully 5-6 years but up to 10?

What do you want to DO with the PhD?

Do you ultimately want to work in academia? A PhD, especially in humanities, is (broadly) extremely specific job training for academic work. You are, in theory, an apprentice professor. Just as an MD is practical training to be a doctor, a JD is practical training to be a lawyer, etc.

It's absolutely okay to go in saying yes! I do! and then change your mind, but you should be aware that this is what you're (generally) training for. Obviously in science, SOME industry jobs CAN prefer PhD holders and that's definitely a reason to do the degree as well.

The thing is - you're absolutely right that it can be hard to get a job after the PhD. There are only so many academic jobs and you will be considered overqualified for many non-academic jobs, depending on your field.

If you want to do the degree because you like learning about a specific subject (this is a gross oversimplification, apologies) but would want to do a job that doesn't require such a degree, I would suggest taking the normal job and finding a way to keep learning on the side.

Would you be able to live your life without doing the PhD?

So when considering a PhD, it HAS to be something that you cannot live without doing, because it is a massive commitment that takes a lot of time and energy. It is hard for many reasons and can worm its way into all parts of your life - people aren't joking when they tell you to get a therapist when you start.

It's a degree about stubbornness and persistence, truly. If you have any major doubts, take the normal job.

--

All doom and gloom aside, there is also the fact that while it IS a big choice to make, nothing is set in stone.

You can master out of a PhD program (or even leave before that, but you might as well get a free masters) if you realize that it isn't the right path. Sunk cost fallacy is a liar.

If you take the job, there is no age limit on doing a PhD. While my program has skewed somewhat younger in previous years, our incoming cohort this year includes a couple mid-career people, and I know variance in age of starting is quite common.

I wish you luck with your decision and I hope any of this is helpful!

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

The shifting narrative of God’s interventism and how it reflects on the narrative on John

This post will ignore the issue authorial intent entirely because I can, but it’s also about authorial intent in a way, but I also don’t like to talk about things as happening “accidentally” because a) a serialized story like Supernatural, especially one that got renewed for much longer than anyone could possibly expect or hope in their wildest ambitions, structurally relies on serendipity, because that’s how stories work when they’re work in progress, b) a television show is an extremely multi-authored text and the chance that something happens out of the intent of any of the multiple layers of creators is kind of... statistically negligible. So, yeah, that’s my stance on the topic. Anyway.

The shifting narrative about God is simultaneously something that hangs on fortunate storytelling clicks on an essentially programmed narrative. At first, we don’t know where the fuck God is. Cas starts looking for him with little success. Raphael says he’s dead, Cas doesn’t believe it. Dean relates to his struggle because he knows the feeling of not knowing where the fuck your father is and going looking for him with little success, not knowing if he’s even alive. Then the theory that gets assumed as the truth is that God has left. He fucked off who knows where, who knows why, leaving his creation to struggle alone. Also essentially how Dean had felt after John had died; in that case there was guilt for his demon deal and everything, but the most cruel weight on Dean’s shoulder was that John left him alone to struggle with his devastatingly horrific instructions he doesn’t understand. The angels are also left with horrific instructions they don’t understand. No wonder Cas does his own ‘demon deal’ in season 6, as he desperately tries to do what he assumes his father wants from him, but he doesn’t actually know what that is.

“God has left” is maddening, and everyone is angry about it, but it has its own dignity. God has left us without clear instructions, we are confused and in pain and evil runs amock but at least, we suppose, the evil of it is our own doing. We are alone and we do our best, our best is simply not enough. We wish he gave us guidance, but he won’t. He wants us to figure it out ourselves, possibly. We don’t actually know what he wants. But maybe that’s the point. It’s possible he doesn’t even know what’s happening, he just has left the building entirely.

But then Chuck reveals himself. We find out that he never actually left. He was there. “I like front row seats. You know, I figured I’d hide out in plain sight”. He simply chooses not to intervene. He chooses not to answer. He chooses to be hands-off. He presents himself as a laissez-faire parent, because, he says, it’s better for his children to have the responsibility they need to grow up. He’s absent, but in a different way than we thought! It’s not that he doesn’t know what’s happening or isn’t interested in knowing what’s happening. He’s here, he knows what’s happening, he just stays there and watches as you stumble and struggle and scream. It’s worse, and it pains Dean so much he isn’t even afraid to yell at God. You know we’re suffering and you just don’t give us any support, any comfort.

You’re frustrated. I get it. Believe me, I was hands-on, real hands-on, for, wow, ages. I was so sure if I kept stepping in, teaching, punishing, that these beautiful creatures that I created... would grow up. But it only stayed the same. And I saw that I needed to step away and let my baby find its way. Being overinvolved is no longer parenting. It’s enabling.

But it didn’t get better.

Well, I’ve been mulling it over. And from where I sit, I think it has.

Well, from where I sit, it feels like you left us and you’re trying to justify it.

I know you had a complicated upbringing, Dean, but don’t confuse me with your dad.

At that point of the show, the writing team almost certainly didn’t have the s14-15 twist in mind. So this was probably intended to be Chuck’s truth. Later it gets twisted (retconned?) into a lie, but about that later.

Here, Chuck is really good at manipulating the conversation. Dean has a perfectly valid point, because there IS a middle ground between being overinvolved and not being involved at all. There is a middle ground between enabling your children and abandoning them completely. But Chuck hits Dean where it hurts, plays the emotional card, basically tells him that he’s too emotional to understand, too emotional to think rationally about it, because he mixes his feelings about his father to the issue and thus cannot see it clearly. He basically tells him he’s too close to it to get it. You don’t understand parenting, Dean, because you’re too blinded by your emotions about your own little life and cannot see the big picture.

It doesn’t really matter here if he’s telling the truth or lying, it already says a lot about Chuck that he’s emotionally manipulating Dean, silencing him by hitting the painful spot.

But the thing is, 11.20 immediately presents Chuck as a liar. He makes Metatron read his autobiography and the very first line is a lie (“In the beginning, there was me. Boom – detail. And what a grabber. I mean, I’m hooked, and I was there.” “I’m hooked too, and yet... details. You weren’t alone in the beginning. Your sister was with you.”) and the stuff he talks about his experience as Chuck is not exactly truthful about anything (“That, you know, makes you seem like a really grounded, likable person.” “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?” “You are neither grounded nor a person!”). Metatron calls him out (“Okay. There are two types of memoir. One is honest... the other, not so much. Truth and fairy tale. Now, do you want to write Life by Keith Richards? Or do you want to write Wouldn’t It Be Nice by Brian Wilson?”). Chuck SAYS he chooses truth and gives Metatron a different manuscript, supposedly containing the truth, to which Metatron reacts positively. Metatron believes it, and we believe it with him.

Oh! Oh, this! This is what I was talking about. Chapter Ten “Why I Never Answer Prayers, and You Should Be Glad I Don’t”, and Chapter Eleven “The Truth About Divine Intervention and Why I Avoid It At All Costs”.

Nature? Divine. Human nature – toxic.

They do like blowing stuff up.

Yeah. And the worst part – they do it in my name. And then they come crying to me, asking me to forgive, to fix things. Never taking any responsibility.

What about your responsibility?

I took responsibility... by leaving. At a certain point, training wheels got to come off. No one likes a helicopter parent.

This is sort of what he later says to Dean, except that to Dean he talks about “beautiful creatures” “my baby”, talks about helping, none of the harsh tone he’s using here. When Metatron accuses him of hiding from Amara, he retorts “I am not hiding. I am just done watching my experiments’ failures”. What a different language, uh? Then Metatron asks him why he abandoned them, and Chuck answers “Because you disappointed me. You all disappointed me”. Then, he admits he lied about “learning” to play the guitar and so on, because he just gave himself the ability, and then appears to Dean and Sam, after Metatron’s passionate speech about humanity.

So, no matter the authorial intent at the time - the truthiness of Chuck’s words was already ambiguous. He kept lying and being called out, or silencing the conversation with some good ol’ gaslighting.

The season 14 finale introduces the big twist: it was, indeed, all a lie. The whole of it. Chuck didn’t abandon shit. It was all him, minutely controlling the narrative of the universe, putting the characters through all the pain and struggles for his own amusement.

The “absent father” narrative was a lie.

What does this tell us about John? Nothing, according to the authorial intent that shines through Dabb’s Lebanon. But we don’t give a crap about Dabb’s authorial intent about John! He’s just one dude and plenty of other authors have painted a different picture. So I’m going to read the narrative the way I want, because I can, and the narrative allows me to. It’s all there.

I’m suggesting that the fact that Chuck lied when he talked about being a hands-off/absentee father parallels how Dean and Sam prefer to think of their father as an “absent father” when that’s not exactly a reflection of the truth.

You left us. Alone. ‘Cause Dad was just a shell. [...] And I-I had to be more than just a brother. I had to be a father and I had to be a mother, to keep him safe.

Setting aside how “I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” sort of retcons and cleans up the Winchester family picture painted by ealier seasons, the fact that John didn’t really count as a functional father figure and Dean and Sam were essentually alone is not incorrect or anything. It is true that John would leave them to their own devices a lot, thus the long stays in motels, the hunger, the food-stealing, and all. But John wasn’t always absent, at all. He trained them as soldiers, he disciplined them, he was around enough for them to be intimately familiar with what happened when he drank. He drove them around.

It’s almost like it’s preferable to Dean and Sam to spin their own “absent father” narrative, putting the accent on the time they spent alone, painting their childhood as a time they had to grow up on their own, rather than acknowledge they grew up under the thumb of a controlling, looming figure they would regularly live in fear of, even when he was not physically present.

The “absent father” narrative is what Dean and Sam need to use to avoid confronting the reality of the father figure whose moods and whims they had to dance around. “I know things got dicey... you know, with Dad... the way he was. And I just... I didn’t always look out for you the way that I should have. I mean, I had my own stuff, you know. In order to keep the peace, probably looked like I took his side quite a bit.”

John shaped their lives. He shaped their identities. Even in the episodes where he abandons Dean or both children somewhere, he’s portrayed as the figure who drives the car. He symbolically drives the car, you know? John shaped Dean and Sam’s relationship with each other, both on a surface level (the conflicts) and on a deeper level (the parental dynamic).

Heck. The entire first season of the show plays on John’s disappearance as the “elephant in the room”. John is there by not being there, you know? And after he dies, his death - his absence - is again the elephant in the room for Dean, the weight on his psyche that he shatters under.

It is not wrong that Dean and Sam had to spend long periods of time without John. But John structured their lives in quite minute detail. Where they needed to be, what they needed to do, what they must not do, everything had to follow John’s instructions. A drill sergeant, the narrative called him, ordering how his sons needed to live their lives. That’s no absence, except on a level where Chuck not showing himself and pretending he’s not there can be considered absent. That’s a presence, not necessarily always physical, but semiotical and psychological.

John is an absent father as much as Chuck is a hands-off god. He even writes himself into the story around the time Cas has the “season 1” phase (let’s go look for dad/let’s go look for god), which is when John actually was alive and appeared. Then he was no longer physically there, but he was still shaping his characters’ lives, just like he’d always done.

The “absent father” narrative on John is that - a narrative. Spun by the characters themselves because it’s easier and actually kinder on John. Or, better, it allows them not to be crushed by the psychological implications of having to accept that their father was such a looming, minutely formative figure in their lives. They know, but they can wave the “absent father” idea around to avoid thinking about it.

“I had to be a father and I had to be a mother” is something easier to tell yourself. I was the one who did it all. But he wasn’t, and that’s the problem. The fact that John was their father - Dean’s and Sam’s - is the problem. But ironically, blaming himself for every failure is a better option for Dean than fully acknowledging John’s abuse. As long as he blames himself, he has control over it. The moment he acknowledges the extent of John’s influence, he loses control over the entire narrative of his own identity and the family identity, the family dynamics. That’s scarier, just like realizing that God manipulated everything is much scarier than the alternative. “God abandoned us” was indeed a better option, and “John left us alone” was a better option. But neither was true, and the characters faced the implications of the cosmic level, but never got to face the implication of the familial level, because the narrative always danced around it and then Dabb’s apologist version “won”.

But what’s been put in the show is still there. The narrative of John’s abuse is still there. Nothing can take it out of the story.

[adenei]

Day 17: January Word Challenge

Summary: Ron meets with Professor McGonagall for his 5th year Career Advice Meeting. No pairing, but I won’t deny that Romione is 100% implied.

Positivity

“Good afternoon, Mr. Weasley. Please have a seat,” Professor McGonagall said as Ron entered the room.

He wasn’t sure what to expect. The twins weren’t entirely helpful when they saw the bulletin for the career advice meetings, and each student was scheduled sporadically. His was consequently one of the first. So much for relying on alphabetical order, he thought as he took a seat.

“Now as you know, we hold these meetings before students take their O.W.L. exams to give them an idea of what courses they’ll need to achieve high marks in to pursue their career of choice. Have you given any thought to what may interest you after you complete your Hogwarts education?” Minerva asked.

Ron felt his ears grow hot at the professor’s question. He knew what he wanted to say, but hesitated, doubting she’d react positively. His grades were mediocre, and he wasn’t exceptional in any particular subject, but he was consistent in his classes across the spectrum.

“Well, Mr. Weasley? I don’t mean to rush you, but we don’t have a lot of time,” Professor McGonagall pressed.

“I, er–I’ve given a bit of thought to being an Auror,” Ron admitted finally.

He stared at the biscuit tin on his Head of House’s desk in an attempt to avoid seeing her reaction. After a few seconds had passed, he glanced up at McGonagall briefly to see what was taking her so long to answer. She was watching him with her piercing gaze, no doubt thinking of a way to let him down gently. Somehow, he knew his aspirations were too good to be true.

Eventually, he saw her nod ever so briefly as she picked up a pile of brochures. She pulled one out and opened it. Her eyes flitted quickly across the tri-fold.  “To pursue a career as an Auror will take significant effort. You will need top grades in all of your classes. Entering the training program alone requires five N.E.W.T.’s, and nothing under ‘Exceeds Expectations’ will permit you into the training program.”

“What are the courses?” Ron asked, finally looking up. 

He was surprised that Professor McGonagall was explaining the material. Of course the Aurors wouldn’t be an easy option, but there wasn’t anything else that Ron could see himself doing. If he was being honest, all these years at Harry’s side as he fought off Voldemort had given him an interest in keeping the magical world safe. Especially now that he knew Voldemort was back.  

“Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Herbology. I will have you know that I do not accept anyone into my N.E.W.T. courses with marks less than “Exceeds Expectations,’ on their Transfiguration O.W.L.’s. And Professor Snape only accepts those who receive ‘Outstanding’ on their Potions O.W.L.

“Maybe I should find something else, then,” Ron said as he immediately slumped in his chair. 

If he studied twice as hard, he could probably achieve the appropriate Transfiguration marks. But Potions? There was no way he’d be able to achieve an Outstanding!

“Mr. Weasley, do not count yourself out so quickly,” Professor McGonagall said, surprising him. “According to Professors Flitwick and Sprout, your Charms and Herbology marks are ‘Acceptable’ and ‘Exceeds Expectations,’ and your Defense Against the Dark Arts marks are also satisfactory. If you put in the extra revisions, you will surely be able to follow this path.”

Ron looked up surprisingly at her words, but still didn’t believe them to be true. “There’s no way I’ll be able to achieve an O in Potions, though” he said, eyeing the other pamphlets on her desk as he began having second thoughts about his choice.

“Mr. Weasley, if I may—” Professor McGonagall started, “you are highly capable of achieving anything you set your mind to. All of the professors have noted your promise, and it is my personal opinion that the only thing lacking is a bit of self confidence and positivity. You’ve been named Prefect of your year, as well as Keeper on the Quidditch team, and despite the extra responsibilities, you are still able to keep up on your schoolwork. Managing all that you are involved in is not an easy task.”

He was surprised to hear her mention his extracurriculars. He always assumed being named Prefect was a mistake, and therefore didn’t take much stock in the badge and his duties. “Er, right, about that. Why did you choose me for Prefect, anyways?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.

McGonagall looked a bit taken aback. “Why would I not choose you?” she asked rhetorically. “You are dependable, your grades are up to snuff, and you have a strong moral compass when it comes to right and wrong with a level head on your shoulders. Might I add you do well to help keep Ms. Granger grounded.” She paused for a moment. “It also does not hurt that you are the only person in your class that is not afraid to go toe-to-toe when it is necessary. Mind you that is not the reason for which you were chosen, but simply an added bonus,” McGonagall finished with a knowing look.

Ron gave her a weak smile. So it wasn’t a fluke after all. He had been chosen for Prefect purposely. He was beginning to think that maybe he could be an Auror. It wasn’t like McGonagall laughed at his career suggestion. Plus, she was still going over the qualifications. Surely, that had to mean something!

“Now, back to the matter at hand. The Aurors are incredibly selective in who they choose to take on in the program. There have not been any new recruits in recent years. Not only that, but the training requires three more years following your time at Hogwarts, so your commitment to the program will be of utmost importance.” 

Ron nodded at her words. Yeah, it was going to prove a lot of work, but the more she talked, the more Ron felt that this was meant to be his calling. He could do this, or at least he could try. 

Once his meeting concluded, he thanked Professor McGonagall, and left with a renewed sense of not feeling as hopeless of a Hogwarts student and wizard. Sure, he wasn’t brilliant like Hermione, but maybe he did have his own strengths after all. He certainly felt better now that he had a direction to take his studies, and perhaps he could write off History of Magic and Divination once and for all. No more Binns or Trelawney after this year! Ron thought as made his way back to the Gryffindor common room.

[entropy-game-dev]

Getting organised in 2021

Huh, me? No I mean you! You!

I'm sure many people are looking ahead to 2021, and, with the new year comes renewals of goals, habits, motivation and so forth. I'm not really about that, but I thought now would be an apt time to talk about what I've learnt over the past 2 years regarding project management and keeping motivated. 

Now, I want to preface this blog with my thoughts about the whole "productivity" thing. I make a huge, HUGE distinction between being productive at work and productive on your hobbies. The idea of productivity in the workplace can be used in a manipulative fashion, where one may work themselves to mental and physical exhaustion for the benefit of someone else. Considering most people reading this will probably be on a fixed wage (rather than commission-based), does it really make sense to push oneself harder without getting any immediate, tangible benefit from it?

So that’s my rant for the blog, I promise! Anyway, on the other hand we have productivity on your hobbies, which is a completely different matter. You get out exactly 100% of what you put into your hobby, and it'll benefit you in multiple ways. I don't think I need to sell this to you, as I'm sure most people, myself included, would love to be more productive on their own personal projects. In this blog, I'm going to be talking exclusively about this sort of productivity and how to improve it in a couple of different ways. Again, this is all stuff I've personally tried and tested, so while I am confident this approach will work for me, it may not necessarily work for you. But, you won't know until you try!! So if you're convinced and want to get motivated, read on!

I first want to talk about one's mindset, and then dive into the tools I use. The latter will provide a bit more context for the former, and in the end, the most powerful tool you have is your brain, so use it!

Training your brain

So, the biggest problem I find myself, and other people have, is how to tackle a project and starting a work session. One I start, I find it easy to get into the zone (and this comes back to the choice of tools that augment my workflow), so getting started and knowing what I'm doing is the main thing I have to tackle. 

On the broadest level, I work with a general plan that has been written up previously. This contains all the key points from start to finish, without worrying too much about the detail at this stage. There is some skill involved in identifying what constitutes a "key" point, but this all comes down to practice. For reference, if I estimate something will take a week or two to finish, that's a task. If something will take longer than that, it's more than likely several tasks, and rolling it up into one task will probably cause some decision paralysis. Anything smaller and your list will get too clogged up, and again, decision paralysis. Right, so that's your high level plan done. Cool, but not really going to help you on a day-to-day basis as this will be something to refer to between tasks.

Ok, so now you have a list of chronological tasks. Take the first one and start it. Oh, you don't know where to start? Don't worry, I'm with you. It's important to recognise the mental signs related to approaching a task. If I find myself hesitating or not looking forward to a particular task, it often means I haven't defined it well enough. That means breaking the task down into individual steps, until you're comfortable saying "yep, I can do this right now" with each dot point. Again, it'll take some practice (depending on your hobby) to visualise and write down each step, but it is definitely something that you get used to, and will save you so much time umming and aahing with your program of choice open, but not actually getting any work done. If you are finding that happens more often than not, it breaks your workflow and you can't get into the zone!

A few more general tips. It helps to be consistent with your work. Try to dedicate a regular time to your hobby and you'll find it a lot easier to get into the working mindset and the zone. Allow yourself some days off, but don't use the excuse of "not being motivated enough" as a reason to take time off. What would be better is, if you can't force yourself to, say, program, work on the art, or the sound, or design. But do it consistently! 

Be accountable as well. This means involving others as much as you can - as an example, say you want to discuss a design aspect with a friend and you'll find extra motivation to work on that aspect, and get it ready for someone else to read over. Just having that knowledge of another person looking at your work will bring it to a new level, trust me! You can also be held accountable to people you don't know! Part of the reason why I started this blog and my Twitter account was because I always have in the back of my mind while working, that it'll eventually make its way to my blog. 

Finally, if your hobby has one, make use of the community where possible - get involved and see if there are ready made templates or resources you can use. I know people like to do things without help, and I absolutely respect that, but I find that people have often gone through the same struggles as you, and will provide ways to make your life easier!

Tools of the trade

Ok so I've used a lot of different software and systems in my time, and by process of natural selection the ones that I still use today are the ones that have been most helpful for me! Here's a short list with both the specific thing I use, and in brackets, what I use it for. If you already use something similar that fill a similar role, then my suggestion is to stick with what you know:

ClickUp (Project management, checklists): This is where I keep a list of all my major tasks. You can have checklists nested in checklists which is amazing for planning, and can organise things into broad categories, and tons more. Any good project management software like Trello etc. should support this.

Google Drive (Cloud storage of other assets, easy sharing, MS office replacement): I use this to store anything that isn't code related, and to work on things simultaneously with other people. While this game is a mostly solo effort, I absolutely discuss and show a ton of stuff to my more experienced friends, who in turn provide very helpful feedback. It's much nicer and more organised than sending files through a messaging app or (heaven forbid) emails!

Bitbucket (Source control, cloud storage of code): If you code, you need this. I don't care how small your project is! Actually, smaller projects are better to learn from! Github is definitely used the most for source control, so if you like that more, use it!

Google Keep (Note taking, brain dumps): Ever had a genius idea right before bed? Same, and I use Google Keep to keep track of them. I could use Clickup in this instance but I find the app to be a bit clunky compared to Keep.

Notepad++ (Rapid notes, copypasting error messages): Notepad ++ is what I use mainly for copypasting error messages to look at later, but I also use it when I need to break down a sub-task down, or make a note to do something later without interrupting my flow. The fact that Notepad++ specificaly can have multiple tabs and will save your tabs automatically without you having to manually save it is amazing.

Good 'ol pen and paper (Scratchpad): For those REALLY hard problems that can't be solved in my head, I turn to pen and paper to get my thoughts organised. While I could use something like Notepad++, I find that being able to write and draw anywhere on the paper, and link things up with lines helps immensely to get a clear idea of things.

Summing up

Right, so, that's about it from me. If you have any questions or want me to elaborate on something I've mentioned here, feel free to leave a comment or an ask. In any case, I hope you’re feeling more motivated now, and all the best for your personal projects in 2021!

P.S. I've know I’ve been a bit quiet lately because I'm working on designing the five factions present in the demo - I can't reveal much lore about them (as those will be in logs you'll find in-game), but I will be showing off some more designs and gameplay mechanics in the near future, so look forward to it!

[noona-clock]

The Risk - Part 3

Genre: Fighter!AU

Pairing: Park Seo Joon x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 | Words: 2,382

Seo Joon sighed softly before he let his arms fall to his side, and he took a step back from the punching bag.

“What’s up?” his coach, Victor, asked. “Your head’s not in it today.”

“I just...” Seo Joon let out another sigh, and he honestly felt a little ridiculous. The reason he was having trouble focusing was... he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

He had been on one date with you -- one date! But it had been a really good date. He hadn’t kissed you when he’d dropped you off at your apartment, but it had still been a really good date. And now he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

“What was it like?” he asked, his brow furrowed as he shifted his gaze to his coach. “When you first met your husband?”

Predictably, Victor reacted with a bit of surprise. “When I -- what do you mean?”

“How did you feel? Did you know that he was...”

“...The One?” Victor replied. “Well, no... I didn’t realize that I knew at the time, but after a while... when I looked back on it, I actually did know. Deep down, from the very beginning, I just knew. It took me a while to really understand it, though.”

Seo Joon bit the inside of his cheek, very obviously thinking about something. “What was it like? Dating him?”

Victor let out a sputtering sigh and shrugged. “I don’t know. It was... Really, the only way to describe it is easy. It was easy. I didn’t feel like I had to try hard to make things work because they just... did. Why? What’s with the sudden interrogation about relationships?”

Seo Joon’s expression changed dramatically as he laughed softly, shaking his head a little. “Do you... remember our server? At the restaurant after the match last weekend?”

“Yes... I remember,” Victor replied with just a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“I went out with her the other night.”

“And now you can’t stop thinking about her?”

“It’s constant,” Seo Joon replied with a sigh, almost sounding frustrated. But, in a weird way, it was frustrating. He’d had girlfriends before, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling quite like this. It was strange, and he didn’t know what to do about it. “And the thing is, I actually said to her on our date that talking to her was easy.”

Victor raised his eyebrows, and after a few moments, he shrugged again. “Listen, Seo Joon, I’m not going to tell you that she’s The One just because she’s easy to talk to. Every relationship is different -- not that it’s a relationship, but you know what I mean. I’m here for you if you ever need to talk about it, but... the only thing I can tell you right now is don’t let her distract you. You’ve got a match coming up in a month, and if you don’t stay focused on your training, you’ll lose your undefeated record for the season.”

Seo Joon exhaled deeply through his mouth before looking at his coach and nodding once. “Got it,” he murmured.

Actually, that was good advice. He did need to stay focused, and he figured a month was a pretty good timeframe. He would take it easy, keep it casual with you over the next month. He wouldn’t rush into anything serious or make any crazy declarations of love, and after his next match in one month, he would see where things were. If he was still seeing you and still couldn’t stop thinking about you, he would take it to the next level.

But he could think more about that later. Right now, he needed to train.

Truly, there was nothing a good, hard workout session couldn’t fix.

After a few hours of punching, kicking, sparring, jogging, and lifting weights, Seo Joon found his mind was much clearer.

It was still filled with thoughts of you, of course, but he wasn’t nearly as... confused, I guess. He knew what he wanted to do, and he had a renewed vigor to just go ahead and do it.

As soon as he stepped out of the gym, freshly showered and changed, he slid his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his text conversation with you. He was going to take things slowly, yes, but not too slowly.

Seo Joon smiled to himself, putting his phone away and getting his keys out as he began to head over to the gym’s parking lot.

About 15 minutes later, you sent him your location and 20 minutes after that, he got back in his car and headed over to your university.

Once he found a place to park, he got out his phone and pulled up the map you’d messaged him. He navigated over to a building, walking through quads and weaving through small crowds of students and professors.

Just as he stopped in front of a somewhat small, three-story brick building and lifted his gaze up from his screen, the front doors opened and a wave of people began filing out.

Seo Joon’s eyes narrowed slightly as he searched the many faces walking toward him, and when they finally landed on a familiar one -- and a very pretty one, at that -- his heart did a little leap inside his chest.

You were talking to another girl, smiling and rolling your eyes playfully, but then your gaze caught his briefly. Seo Joon watched as you turned back to your friend and said goodbye before breaking off from the crowd and walking over to him.

“Hey,” you greeted with a shy smile. “I’m glad you found it okay.”

“I had no idea you could send your location like that,” Seo Joon replied instead of greeting you in return.

“Well, you learn something new every day,” you chuckled.

Seo Joon grinned at you, and he could’ve sworn he saw you take a breath, like your heart had just leaped inside your chest just as his had not two minutes ago.

“So, where are we going?” he asked as he slid his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Ah, yes,” you said with an excited raise of your eyebrows. “Follow me. It’s not too far.”

You turned on your heel, and Seo Joon immediately followed you. He also immediately reached out and tugged at the strap of your backpack.

“I can carry this for you,” he said, attempting to slide it off your shoulder.

“Oh, no, that’s --”

But he really wasn’t going to give you much choice. He was the type of guy who carried any bag that any female he was walking with had, no matter what. He was going to make her walk on the inside of the sidewalk, he was going to hold open doors for her, and he was going to carry her bags. He didn’t care who she was, how old she was, and that was that!

“Thank you,” you said softly as he slid the backpack onto his own shoulders.

“You’re very welcome,” he murmured in reply. “How’s your day been so far? What class did you have just now?”

“It’s been fine,” you said with a gentle sigh. “It was a technical seminar on fiction writing. We have to read and analyze different literature and talk about different writing techniques and stuff. It’s actually pretty interesting.”

“What kind of stories do you like to write?” Seo Joon asked curiously.

“Mainly your typical, romantic, happy-ending stories,” you explained with a little laugh. “I’ve tried to do more dark, angsty stuff, but... it’s just not me.”

Seo Joon simply smiled, following you as you turned down a walkway. He liked that, actually. He liked that you liked writing happy stories, and he liked that you knew who you were and didn’t try to be anything different.

The two of you walked on for a few more minutes, engaging in some small talk until you began to slow your steps.

“Here we are,” you announced, gesturing toward what looked like... a garden. A very large garden. “My school has a really amazing horticulture and landscape design program, so our botanical gardens are pretty awesome. I come here if I need to chill or if I just want to take my mind off things. It’s one of my happy places.”

To be honest, Seo Joon was a little surprised you would take him to one of your happy places. Delighted, but surprised. Maybe that meant you were on the same wavelength as he was... maybe you were also constantly thinking about him.

“I had no idea this was here,” he said as he followed you through the entrance and down a cobblestone path lined with blooming shrubs. “I mean, I’ve never been to this school, but still. This place is huge.”

“And it’s open to the public,” you replied. “Free admission, too. It’s all school-funded, and the students do all of their projects here and stuff.”

“I can see why you like it.” Even just stepping over from the concrete sidewalk to the brick path of the garden felt like stepping into another world. It was now suddenly quiet and peaceful, and he could totally understand why you would come here to de-stress.

You led him over toward a stone bench in front of a trickling fountain, and he slid your backpack off his shoulders before perching next to you.

“I’m actually not a big nature person,” you said, stretching your legs out in front of you and crossing one ankle over the other. “But I like this kind of nature. Pretty nature with no bears or snakes.”

Seo Joon chuckled softly, and he had never been more tempted to reach over and take someone’s hand. Yours were clasped together in your lap right now, and it was all he could do not to just slide his hand over and link his own fingers through yours.

He let out a soft sigh because he was supposed to be casual about this. He wasn’t supposed to want to hold your hand already because he had a month until his match, and he needed to focus, and --

“Are you okay?” Your voice cut into his thoughts, and his eyebrows shot up his forehead as he looked over at you.

“Hm? Oh -- yeah, I’m just --”

Well... it might not be the best decision, but Seo Joon figured he should be honest.

“I just... haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since our date.”

He could see the hint of surprise in your face, but instead of saying something like ‘oh’ or getting flustered and embarrassed, you said, “Me too, actually.”

Seo Joon’s heart sped up quite a bit, and he turned to face you better, angling his legs toward yours so his knees touched your thigh.

“I don’t want to rush into anything,” he explained. “I have a match next month, and I need to stay focused and train.”

You simply nodded, your eyes wide as you listened intently. And adorably.

Goodness, he was just realizing how actually adorable you were.

“But... I like you.”

That was really all there was to it. He didn’t even really know you all that well, but... he liked you.

“I like that you know who you are, and you’re not afraid to be yourself,” he continued. “This sounds totally lame and cliche, but you’re honestly one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met.”

He saw your cheeks tinge with pink, and your lips curved into a bashful smile as you replied. “Well, there’s no use being someone I’m not. I would have to keep on pretending around you, and that would just be so exhausting. I can’t keep that up.”

Seo Joon laughed softly, and... he gave in to his urge to hold your hand. He reached over and wiggled his fingers in-between your clasped palms, linking them through yours.

As he gazed over at you, you gazed down at your hands, keeping your eyes fixed on them as you opened your mouth to speak again.

“I mean, there are always going to be people who like you and people who don’t, no matter who you are or what you’re like or how you act. What’s the point in being someone else? You might as well just be your true self and find people who like you and accept you for exactly who you are, not people who like you for who you’re pretending to be.”

Seo Joon studied you for a few moments, long enough for you to shift your gaze up to look back at him.

“You said you like writing romance stories?” he asked.

“...Yeah,” you replied with a curious grin. 

“Do you have plans to do any self-help books? Because it sounds like you have a lot to say on that subject,” he told you with a tiny, admiring smirk.

“No,” you laughed, shaking your head. “No self-help books. Just fiction.”

Seo Joon squeezed your hand slightly, and after you squeezed it back, he said, “Well, I like who you are. A lot.”

You leaned over and bumped his arm gently with your shoulder. “I like you, too.”

All of a sudden, the image of kissing you popped into Seo Joon’s head. He so vividly pictured himself leaning over and capturing your lips in a soft kiss, cradling your lips as delicately as if you were made of glass.

Apparently, he was not alone in these thoughts, because before he could even say anything -- ask for your permission, perhaps -- you had leaned over and done just that.

You’d kissed him.

But, almost as quickly as it had happened, it was over. You had pulled away, and Seo Joon was blinking his eyes open.

“Sorry,” you breathed, and you were still close enough that Seo Joon could feel your breath glide over his mouth.

Of course, his first instinct was to tell you there was absolutely no reason to apologize. You had nothing to be sorry about and, in fact, he had been thinking about kissing you, too.

But... he figured he didn’t need to say any of that.

He didn’t need to say anything.

He simply closed the gap in-between you and kissed you back.

Part 4

[trylonandperisphere]

Article text:

How Much Do We Need The Police?

June 3, 20207:59 AM ET

LEAH DONNELLA

One effect of the widespread protests across U.S. cities this week has been to renew discussions of what role the police should play in society.

For many Americans, it goes without saying that the police are critical in maintaining public safety. Have an emergency? Call the police. But many others — especially black people and poor people — have long countered that the police pose more of a threat to their safety than a boon. See a police officer? Walk in the other direction.

So it seems like a good moment to talk to Alex S. Vitale. He's the author of the 2017 book The End of Policing. In it, he argues that rather than focus on police reform or officer retraining, the country needs to reconsider fundamentally what it is the police should be doing at all.

I spoke with Vitale about what roles police should and shouldn't play, what he makes of the current protests and what actual change in the way police in this country do their jobs might look like. Our conversation has been edited and condensed for clarity.

One of the arguments you make in The End of Policing is that police are being asked to do too much. They're basically being tasked with addressing every social problem that we have. So what are police asked to do? And what should they be asked to do?

One of the problems that we're encountering here is this massive expansion in the scope of policing over the last 40 years or so. Policing is now happening in our schools. It's happening in relation to the problems of homelessness, untreated mental illness, youth violence and some things that we historically associate police with.

But the policing has become more intensive, more invasive, more aggressive. So what I'm calling for is a rethink on why we've turned all of these social problems over to the police to manage. And as we dial those things back, then we can think more concretely about what the rest of policing should look like and how that could be reformed.

You brought up homelessness. In many cities police are tasked with dealing with people experiencing homelessness — but they don't have many options besides basically moving people or arresting them.

Well, we've created this situation where our political leaders have basically abandoned the possibility of actually housing people. Which, of course, is the real solution, supportive housing for those who need extra support. But basically, we have a massive failure in housing markets that is unable to provide basic shelter for millions of Americans.

So instead of actually addressing that fundamental problem, we have relabeled it as a problem that is the fault of the disorderly people who we label as morally deficient. And then we use police to criminalize them, to control their behavior and to reduce their disorderly impact on the rest of us. And this is perverse and unjust. So then it places police in this completely untenable situation, because they completely lack the tools to make this problem any better. And yet we've told them it's their problem to manage.

Part of our misunderstanding about the nature of policing is we keep imagining that we can turn police into social workers. That we can make them nice, friendly community outreach workers. But police are violence workers. That's what distinguishes them from all other government functions. ... They have the legal capacity to use violence in situations where the average citizen would be arrested.

So when we turn a problem over to the police to manage, there will be violence, because those are ultimately the tools that they are most equipped to utilize: handcuffs, threats, guns, arrests. That's what really is at the root of policing. So if we don't want violence, we should try to figure out how to not get the police involved.

There are obviously a lot of people who agree broadly with the notion that the way that policing happens in this country is a problem and that there needs to be some sort of change. But they're pretty invested in the idea that police are needed to maintain public safety. People ask the question, without police, what do you do when someone gets murdered? What do you do when someone's house gets robbed? What do you say to those people who have those concerns?

Well, I'm certainly not talking about any kind of scenario where tomorrow someone just flips a switch and there are no police. What I'm talking about is the systematic questioning of the specific roles that police currently undertake, and attempting to develop evidence-based alternatives so that we can dial back our reliance on them. And my feeling is that this encompasses actually the vast majority of what police do. We have better alternatives for them.

Even if you take something like burglary — a huge amount of burglary activity is driven by drug use. And we need to completely rethink our approach to drugs so that property crime isn't the primary way that people access drugs. We don't have any part of this country that has high-quality medical drug treatment on demand. But we have policing on demand everywhere. And it's not working.

Obviously, a big part of what is on people's minds right now is the role that police have in dealing with protesters, dealing with different types of political unrest. In your book, you talk a lot about the history of how police have been used to quell social unrest. Can you talk about that history a little bit?

Well, I think that one of the myths we have about policing is that it is politically neutral, and that it is always here to sort of create order in a way that benefits everyone. But the reality is that America's social order has never been entirely equitable. We have a long history of exploitation of the Indigenous population, of African Americans through slavery, Jim Crow and today.

And while we're not using police to manage slavery or colonialism today, we are using police to manage the problems that our very unequal system has produced. We're invested in this kind of austerity politics that says the government can't afford to really do anything to lift people up. We have to put all our resources into subsidizing the already most successful parts of the economy. But those parts of the economy are producing this huge group of people who are homeless, unemployed, have untreated mental health and substance abuse problems. And then we ask the police to put a lid on those problems — to manage them so they don't interfere with the "order" that we're supposedly all benefiting from.

But if you're one of those poor people, one of those folks with a mental health problem, someone who's involved in black market activities to survive, then you experience this as constant criminalization.

And would you say the same goes for people who are political protesters?

Political protest has always been a part of this dynamic, right? Political protests are a threat to the order of this system. And so policing has always been the primary tool for managing those threats to the public order. Just as we understand the use of police to deal with homelessness as a political failure, every time we turn a political order problem over to the police to manage, that's also a political failure. I think the mayor of Minneapolis, for instance: Jacob Frey. He has consistently tried to frame this as a problem of a few bad apples. And he says, "Why are you protesting? We fired them." But this completely misunderstands the nature of the grievances. And instead of actually addressing those grievances, he's throwing police at the problem.

Are the interactions that are happening right now between police and protesters something that you think is predictable? Or is this something new that we haven't seen before?

It's not completely new; it's just the intensity of it compared [with], let's say, five years ago during the Eric Garner and the Mike Brown protests. What we're seeing is really an immediate escalation to very high levels of force, a high degree of confrontation.

And I think part of it is driven by deep frustration within policing, which is that police feel under assault, and they have no answer. They trotted out all the possible solutions: police-community dialogue sessions, implicit bias training, community policing, body cameras. And it just didn't work. It didn't make any difference. And so they ran out of excuses.

So the protests today are a much more kind of existential threat to the police. And the police are overreacting as a result.

If we were to take serious steps toward moving in the direction of having police address fewer of our social problems and putting those problems in the hands of people who are actually more equipped to deal with them, what would be the next step? What is the next thing that we as a country have to push for?

I think this will look like a series of local budget battles. And that's really what's going on across the country, is when we have these divest campaigns in places like Los Angeles and Minneapolis and New York and Durham, N.C., and Nashville, Tenn., and Dallas, Texas. These are folks who are saying concretely: "We don't want police in our schools. We want that money spent in ways that help our children, not criminalize them. We don't want more money for overtime for narcotics officers. We want actual drug treatment programs, safe injection facilities, things that will help people." So that's what this looks like. It's about rallying city council members and mayors around a new vision of creating healthier communities.

When you're looking around at what's happening right now, what are the things that you think people need to understand to really process what is going on around the country?

Well, I think the police are making the argument for us, right? People started this conversation by saying policing is out of control; they're not making the situation better. They have not been reformed. Well, now all you have to do is turn on the nightly news and see how true that is.

The level of aggression and unnecessary escalation is stark evidence of how unreformed policing is, and I argue how unreformable it is. The question is whether or not people will take it to the next step and ask the tough political questions. Why are our mayors turning this over to the police to manage? Why are we using curfews instead of having conversations? Why are we throwing protesters in prison instead of trying to figure out what's driving all of this anger?

[streamworthytv]

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[fallintosanity]

lucis apparently managed cell phones and some local-to-insomnia version of the internet without ever achieving flight of any kind, much less space flight. niflheim has magitek airships but not much by way of advanced digital tech. for that matter, gaia has PHSs and sort-of-internet on them and is approaching spaceflight, but also has fully functional holographic training rooms. 

technology, how does it work?

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

Noctis slept nearly the entire ride to Rocket Town, which was a full twenty-four-hour flight in the helicopter, counting the stop in North Corel to refuel and let Reno get a few hours’ sleep himself. Cloud almost thought Noctis was faking being asleep to avoid having to make small talk - or avoid the probing questions about his history and training Cloud had intended to ask - but the couple of times Cloud had tried to get a reaction out of him, he hadn’t responded any more than when Cloud had first tried to wake him up that morning. 

He had no idea how Noctis could sleep that much and still be yawning and bleary-eyed when they climbed out of the helicopter onto a field just outside town, but at least the guy was on his feet. Reno led them across the field and into the town, which was far smaller than Cloud remembered - just a couple of houses, including Cid’s, plus several buildings which looked like offices or storehouses for the rocket program. The rocket itself towered over Cid’s house, shiny and incomplete, a metal skeleton with its wires and tubes and tanks exposed to the elements. 

Noctis whistled softly as he spotted the rocket. “The hell’s that thing for?” he asked. 

“The President wants to send a guy into space,” Reno said with a shrug. “Dunno why, it ain’t like there’s much up there except dark and cold. But apparently that whole thing’s what it takes to launch someone into space.” 

“Huh,” Noctis said. His expression suggested he hadn’t ever considered spaceflight before, but then again, most people hadn’t. And if Cloud didn’t figure out how to warn Cid about the faulty oxygen tank before it forced him to abort the launch, no one else would. Maybe he could find a way to do that while he was here. 

But Reno didn’t lead them to Cid’s house - instead he went to one of the smaller side buildings and opened the door without bothering to knock. Several startled scientists looked up as they entered, but the surprise quickly changed to relief. One of the scientists, an older woman with steely hair and a nearsighted squint, rose from her seat at a desk and crossed to greet them. “I’m so glad you were able to get out here this quickly,” she said without preamble. “We need to start adding the plating to the frame within the next two days or we’ll have to strip it back down and redo the weathering for safety. But the materials for plating are all stored in the barn the coeurls took over.” 

Reno nodded lazily, as though he had any idea what she was talking about. “We got just the guys for you,” he said, and jerked a thumb at Cloud and Noctis. “Commander Cloud Strife, SOLDIER First, and Noctis Caelum, SOLDIER Third. They’ll wipe out those coeurls, yo.” 

Under his breath, Noctis muttered, “Lucis Caelum.” If Reno noticed, he gave no sign, but Cloud filed it away for reference. He’d been wondering how Noctis’s name worked - Noctis didn’t seem to mind being addressed as just “Caelum”, but clearly it bothered him not to have the “Lucis” part included in a more formal introduction. 

The woman didn’t seem to notice Noctis’s correction, either; she turned to Cloud and said, “Excellent. Please let me know if there is anything my team or I can do to assist.” 

“Just point us to the barn, ma’am,” Cloud said, “and stay inside.” 

“Of course.” She stepped around Cloud, half leaning out the door to point. “Follow this street to the edge of town. You’ll see the barn out there; it’s the third one out, the only one without sides. But be careful - the coeurls have been seen as close as the farthest houses.” 

Cloud nodded and glanced at Reno. “You staying here?”

“You’re the SOLDIERs, yo,” Reno said. “I’m just the chaperone.” 

Noctis snorted, his eyes glittering with amusement. Cloud couldn’t blame him - Reno wasn’t exactly anyone’s idea of a responsible adult. Or at least, he didn’t appear to be so. It was part of what made him so dangerous. Cloud shook his head and led the way back out of the building, Noctis trailing on his heels as he followed the woman’s directions out to the edge of town. Curtains flicked aside in the windows of the houses they passed, and a few curious children were bold enough to lean out to stare. Cloud and Noctis ignored them.

“Got a plan?” Noctis asked. 

“Kill them fast,” Cloud answered. “Magic slows them down, but doesn’t hurt them much, so don’t waste time on materia.” 

“Not even fire?” Noctis asked, then when Cloud shot him a curious look, added, “I thought coeurls didn’t like fire.” 

Cloud shrugged. “I never noticed a difference when I fought them before. They’ve shrugged off every element I’ve thrown at them. It’s best to go straight for swords.”

“Okay,” Noctis agreed. He swung his rifle off his shoulder and began checking it over, careful to keep it pointed at the ground. “Then you go in close, and I’ll cover you.” 

“Just don’t shoot me,” Cloud said. 

“Yes, sir,” Noctis answered, lazy sarcasm dripping from the words. 

They reached the outer edge of town, denoted by the end of the white picket fence that lined the road. From here, Cloud could see the half-finished barn, its corrugated steel roof poking up above a pair of nearer sheds. He couldn’t hear anything unusual, but coeurls were quiet beasts right up until they tried to kill you. In a low voice, he said to Noctis, “Get up on the rooftops. Try to get a clear line of fire.” 

Noctis nodded and slipped away along the side of the nearest shed, while Cloud kept walking along the road toward the barn. The dirt was too dry and packed to make out paw prints, but here and there he spotted tufts of pale yellow fur, or deep claw furrows. A low noise, an almost electric zap, caught his attention from somewhere behind the shed where Noctis had gone, and Cloud drew First Tsurugi and stepped forward, ready to provide backup if one of the beasts had snuck up on Noctis. But no coeurls appeared, and a moment later Noctis himself leaned over the edge of the roof, rifle in hand. He’d gotten up there remarkably fast - maybe there was a ladder or something. He waved an all-clear to Cloud, then gestured that he was going to get closer to the barn. 

Cloud nodded back and resumed his own walk forward. The sound he’d heard had probably just been something inside the shed, some bit of machinery for the rocket program. Time to focus on the coeurls ahead of him. He checked the materia slotted into his sword, making sure his Barrier was ready, and his Restore, too, just in case. Noctis had proven incredibly competent so far, but against this many coeurls, it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared. Satisfied, Cloud raised his sword and stepped around the last shed into full view of the half-built barn. 

The barn was long and low, little more than a corrugated roof held up by steel beams over a cement floor. Stacks of huge wooden crates, bales of rebar, and piles of steel plating lined the edges of the floor, with an open space in the center presumably for loading and unloading. Half a dozen coeurls were sprawled on top of the crates like oversized housecats. They lifted their heads at Cloud’s approach, their long whiskers floating deceptively lightly in the slight breeze, tips sparking with deadly magic. 

Cloud knew from experience that they wouldn’t attack unless he struck first, but they were also territorial - if he got too close to the space they’d claimed, they’d view it as an attack. The way they were spread out around the barn, some of them a full ten feet up on top of stacks of crates, meant he’d be swarmed no matter which one he went for first. And coeurl prides were usually eight to ten animals, so there were likely several more somewhere he couldn’t see. He really should have arranged some kind of signal with Noctis - with this setup, it would be much better for Noctis to shoot first, to distract the beasts while Cloud closed on them. But he didn’t want to risk looking up on the roofs for Noctis now, and potentially giving away his position. 

A sudden gunshot rang through the air, and the coeurl perched on the highest crate jerked and died. Noctis had solved the problem by shooting it in the eye. The rest of the coeurls yowled in fury, leaping to their feet and focusing on Cloud, the only threat they could see.

Cloud didn't hesitate - he leapt in, First Tsurugi flashing as it sliced through the thick hide of the nearest beast. It twisted at the last second, and what should have been a fatal strike instead opened a bloody line along its flank. Another gunshot cracked nearby and a coeurl crouching to pounce on him fell dead. Cloud took down the one he’d struck, but then had to dodge into a narrow space between several stacks of crates as magic exploded around him, heat blasting his face and ice crackling on its heels. 

“Cloud!” Noctis yelled. “Look out!”

Cloud whipped around, squinting in the shadows behind the crates - just in time to spot the gleaming eyes of the biggest coeurl he’d ever seen. Its whiskers sparked and snapped and suddenly the air filled with lightning. 

Electricity raced along Cloud's bones, seizing his muscles and spiking agony through his body. He dropped to the ground, First Tsurugi falling from his grip. For an awful second he was back in Nibelheim, in Hojo’s lab, strapped to a table as the scientist electrocuted him and laughed— 

Then Noctis shouted his name again and he was back in the present, in a narrow gap between huge wooden storage crates, facing down a massive coeurl whose whiskers were already crackling with renewed power. 

Cloud scooped up his sword and flung himself free of the gap, half-crawling out into the open space between the crates and the wooden wall of the adjacent shed. Thank Odin, the giant coeurl didn’t follow him out; he didn’t think he would have been able to escape again. Electric surges still jolted along his limbs, making his motions jerky and unstable as he struggled to his feet. He glanced up, looking for Noctis on the roof of the shed, but it was empty. Only then did he register the sounds of a fight on the other side of the crates - growling and claws on concrete and battle cries. Cloud staggered around the crates and finally spotted Noctis, out in the center of the unfinished barn, ShinRa broadsword flashing as he fought the coeurls. 

The electric blast must have really done a number on Cloud - Noctis’s motion was a blur, bluish afterimages trailing behind him as he dodged and spun through the coeurls’ attacks. He spotted Cloud, relief flashing across his face before he had to drop low under the whiplike lash of a whisker. Cloud blinked furiously, scrubbing a hand over his eyes until the afterimages faded and his muscles quit spasming. He still took the extra precious second to cast a Restore on himself before raising First Tsurugi and diving back into the fight. 

Noctis had taken down two more of the beasts already, which meant he had a kill count of four to Cloud’s one. Cloud was hardly a competitive guy, but if he let that stand, he’d never hear the end of it from the other Firsts. He split his sword, slicing through the pair of coeurls harrying Noctis from behind and giving the other SOLDIER a moment to breathe. Noctis had come in strong while Cloud was down, but he was clearly flagging now, moving more slowly and having trouble dodging the combination of magic and claws flying at him. Cloud leaped into the air, combining his swords once more and swinging the full weight of First Tsurugi onto the back of a coeurl about to take a bite out of Noctis’s arm. The creature screeched in agony as it fell to the ground, its spine severed; Cloud’s next swing took its head. 

“Thanks,” Noctis gasped, then, “Shit—” 

Cloud didn’t waste time turning to look; just flung up a Barrier around them. The way Noctis’s eyes had widened was enough to tell him the big coeurl had finally reappeared. Another surge of electricity battered the Barrier as Cloud spun around, tearing the protective magic to shreds and sending static tingles along Cloud’s arms. The big coeurl sat at the open front of the barn, blocking the only way out that wasn’t over or through the crates. Two more coeurls, only slightly smaller, flanked the big one, their whiskers sparking. 

Noctis muttered, “The coeurl acquires charge from the particles in the air. If you see it seated on its haunches, stay back.” He sounded like he was reciting something, a touch of a strange accent coloring the words. 

Cloud nodded agreement. “The big one’s about to cast again. You take the one on the left.” 

“Got it,” Noctis said, just as the big coeurl’s whiskers lashed. 

Cloud called another Barrier, bracing himself against the onslaught of electricity. Over the crackling he heard movement on the crates behind him - but even as he started to turn, Noctis leaped over the Barrier, over the lightning barrage, to land sword-first on the leftmost coeurl. Cloud swore under his breath and followed, charging through the last of the electric storm toward the big coeurl. Electricity sparked and crackled along his muscles and First Tsurugi’s edge; he gritted his teeth and pushed through it, splitting the sword as he reached the rightmost coeurl. 

Its whiskers snapped at him, but Cloud rolled low under them, driving the point of the hollow blade into the beast’s throat. It gurgled and died, and Cloud yanked the blade free in time to roll to the side, away from the swipe of claws as long as his hand. The big one was the only one remaining, and if they could just kill it before it was able to charge up another blast— 

Noctis appeared behind its haunches, sword swinging low and hamstringing it even as it tried to spin on him. Cloud took the opening, his main blade plunging into its torso as the hollow blade took its head. The beast collapsed to the ground, the magic gathered in its whiskers fading to nothing and leaving the barn silent except for Cloud’s and Noctis’s panting breaths. 

* * *

“Mako mutants,” the steel-haired scientist said grimly as she handed Cloud a cup of hot tea. “We’re seeing them more and more lately, although normally they stay closer to the reactors.” 

“What’s a mako mutant?” Noctis asked. He sat next to Cloud at the rickety table in the scientists’ office, apparently none the worse for wear despite his mad dive through a coeurl’s electric blast. Cloud remembered how Noctis had dived through his own Bolt spell during their spar a few days ago, and resolved to ask him what his trick was. 

“Beasts warped by overexposure to mako,” the scientist explained to Noctis. “Bigger, stronger, faster than normal monsters. ShinRa tries to keep the areas around each reactor clear of potentially dangerous fauna, but they can’t be everywhere.” 

“Plus, we’re seeing more natural mako fountains,” another scientist added. “I’m starting to wonder if AVALANCHE isn’t right after all, about us hurting the Planet—” He broke off with a hiss and the kind of wince that meant he’d been kicked under the table.

“AVALANCHE is a terrorist organization,” the steel-haired scientist said pointedly, with a sharp glance toward Reno where he was sprawled at a desk on the other side of the lab, seeming absorbed in reading something on his PHS. “Their proselytizing isn’t backed up by our research.” 

Cloud bit down hard on his tongue to keep from saying something he shouldn’t. Now was neither the time nor the place, not with Reno here, though he stole a glance at the second scientist’s name tag: Govert Velner. He’d have to come back here sometime soon, not just to talk to Cid about the rocket, but to encourage Velner’s interest in AVALANCHE’s work. 

A sudden chirp from Cloud’s pocket saved him from the awkward silence that descended over the table. He pulled out his PHS and flipped it open: a new message from “Treasure Princess”, aka Yuffie Kisaragi, the ten-year-old daughter and heir of Lord Godo of Wutai. Cloud had been trying to pay closer attention to her messages ever since he’d had to haul Yuffie out of the Northern Crater with a mated pair of blue dragons on their heels. She claimed not to appreciate his attempts to keep her alive - backed up by literal kicking and screaming every time he showed up to rescue her - but she kept sending him updates on her location anyway. 

Skimming the message, Cloud sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. He’d thought she’d finally started to listen to his admonishments to stick to less dangerous parts of the world; the last few times he’d had to rescue her it had been “only” from the wilds of the southern part of the West Continent. But she’d apparently made it back up to Modeoheim, and was planning to strike out for the Northern Crater again.

“What’s wrong?” Noctis asked. 

Cloud sighed again. “It’s complicated. But… would you mind if we ran an errand before going back to Midgar?” 

“What for?” Noctis tilted his head, clearly trying to get a look at Cloud’s PHS. 

Cloud tossed it to him to let him read the message, then raised his voice. “Reno?” 

“An errand to where?” Reno asked, proving he’d been paying more attention to the conversation at the table than he’d been letting on. 

“Modeoheim.”

Reno lifted his head, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. “What’s up there?” 

“Yuffie Kisaragi.” 

Reno’s other eyebrow joined the first and he sat up straighter. “Isn’t that the princess of Wutai?” 

Noctis’s head came up sharply, grey eyes flicking between Reno and Cloud. Cloud just nodded. “Do you guys mind?” 

Reno shrugged. “Whatever, yo. I don’t have anything pressing back home.” 

“Sure,” Noctis agreed. “Do you want to go now?” 

Cloud nodded again, setting his empty tea mug on the table and rising to his feet. “The sooner the better. She’s only ten, but you’d be surprised how much trouble she can get into.”

[smokinholsters]

The Consequence of Anger - Part 2

This is an AU One Shot in two parts, it takes place about 2 years past 8:4 when Ty hits Ahmed.

Amy was happy to hug her back, the words said back at the table two years ago though remembered didn’t hold the same salty taste they did. Two years had gone by and she missed Alberta and being home.

She’d made peace with them all except for Ty who couldn’t let go soon enough and probably still hadn’t. Amy just couldn’t deal with the heartache of it anymore. She had done what needed to be done, it was best this way and she was ready to move on.

“Why didn’t you let anyone know you were coming, is everything Ok ?”

“It’s fine Lisa, the season’s over as is my contract and I didn’t renew.”

“He offered ?”

“I’ve had several offers aside from his, I wanted to come home.”

“Well, let’s get you settled and I’ll call Lou and your dad.”

“Not tonight Lisa, not my dad, give me one day of peace.”

“Then let’s not tell Lou till later. Georgie and Katie are home and Jack should be back from the herd soon.”

She didn’t get in before both Georgie and Katie gave her hugs and kisses with explanations about why she was home early and their promise not to tell Tim or their mom. Amy and Georgie had made peace once Georgie realized the sacrifice she had made. Georgie had also matured some and becoming a young woman came with a different perspective and attitude. That and the fact that the #metoo surge in awareness was becoming front and center didn’t hurt, from any perspective. Amy was naïve for way too long, she was not that Amy anymore.

She implored Lisa that the chicken she had out was fine and not to make a fuss over dinner. She was tired and just wanted a home cooked meal and relaxation, one day before life took over.

Amy came out when Jack got in and they sat having coffee. She had removed her makeup and changed into jeans, a tank and a flannel. They talked about Europe and several of the people they had met together when the couple visited. Invariably Ty’s name came up.

“Uhm Ty ?” Jack asked. “Have you given that any thought ?”

Amy smiled “not at all Grandpa, why would coming home to Heartland make me think of Ty ?”, she was laughing by the end of the statement. “What ? not funny ?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I guess we’ll talk but do you think there’s a point ?”

Lou walked in then and was as surprised as the rest and after going through the vagaries of jumping world contracts once again settled as the fourth at the small kitchen table.

“Lisa, I need a realtor, I have to find a horse property.”

“You’re not staying here ?”

“We going to go through this again Grandpa ? I think I can have 8 Warmbloods here weeks after I can house them comfortably in a place they can be trained. You and I both know that’s not going to happen here.”

“I’ll get you some names honey.”

Amy smiled at her, Lisa didn’t question her about it at all. “How’s things at Fairfield ?”

“Oh you know, let’s change the subject.”

“Anything I can help with, what’s the problem ?”

“Thoroughbred racing follows the economy, we rode high for a time but things are a bit tight right now, I’ve thought of selling.”

“Change focus, maybe board and train like Val, at least you’re not a witch.”

“Val’s not a witch Amy.”

“Thanks Grandpa, she put Mallen on me when I was 15, should we go on ?”

“She’s changed a little since then.”

“I’ve heard about the incident with Jesse I’m not supposed to know about Grandpa, have there been others ?”

“Do you care ?”

“I’d like to know what I did meant something Lou, so yes, I care.”

“He straightened up after that, though he lost the time he made up in vet school and graduated on time rather than early.”

“And he works with Scott and that Cass now ? Who’s with Caleb ?”

“That’s all the dirt.”

“And Ty ?”

“Do you want to know ?”

“Is he seeing someone ?”

“No.”

“Well, we’re not a couple Lou and no, I have not dated.”

“You plan on calling him ?”

“Or him me, I’m sure someone is bound to run into him.”

They got Lou to agree not to let Tim know and of course she almost botched it when he called her. Thankfully for Amy he didn’t just pull up for dinner.

“Who’s in the house at Fairfield Lisa ?” Amy asked the next morning when she found herself alone with her over coffee.

“No one though the cleaning company keeps it up.”

“Ok, I’m just going to say this, how much behind are you ?”

“I’m not comfortable discussing this with you Amy.”

“How about Ms. Fleming a strange  Belgium investor in town who may have a proposition ?”

Lisa smiled “please Ms. Fleming, I’m all ears.”

“Diversify, train jumpers along with the thoroughbreds.”

“Go on ?”

“As I said, I can make a call and get 8 Warmbloods here in a few weeks, maybe a month, the faster I can stall and have a place to train them the faster I can get them ready and sold.”

“That’s long term.”

“So is a breeding program which is why I asked about the money, I can still fix horses and coach jumpers and I have money.”

“I have a horse I hope to sell soon that would pretty much bail me out but that would be even. $200,000 would see us through with some light to spare.”

“I have $200,000 dollars Lisa, maybe we can work together and I can stay at Fairfield ?”

Lisa stared at her for a second and then took a sip.

Amy smiled “Cat got your tongue ? Sit with your accountant and lawyer and Grandpa and we’ll talk, in the meantime, I’ll look at properties. Can I stay at Fairfield anyway Grandma ?”

Lisa laughed, “of course you can honey and we’ll definitely talk, partners though.”

“Thank god because I’ve gotten used to laying in a hot tub and refilling it if I’m not done” Amy said laughing “partners is fine, family is better I think.”

Lisa laughed along with her “I almost envy you.”

“Oh, feel free to come by and join in the fun.”

“I can just see the expression on Jack’s face showing up at Fairfield one day and me laying in the tub.”

They made a morning of it and Lisa walked Amy around Fairfield and then the house.

“Take the master Amy, it’s got the en-suite bath and the balcony.”

“It’s a lovely space  but it’s your room Lisa.”

“It’s really not, is it the bed, we’ll order a new one.”

“That’s ridiculously unnecessary.” Amy laughed.

“I’ll stay in the master, thank you.”

They decided to have lunch at Maggie’s, Amy agreed to move in about a week or so once she got some personal stuff packed and a couple boxes from Europe that were on the way. She was also expecting Spartan and wanted him to be brought to Heartland first so she’d wait for that.

Jade welcomed and sat them. After a minute she took their orders. She stared at Amy for a few seconds before Amy snapped.

“What Jade, I remember you, why are you staring at me ?”

“No reason except Ty just walked in.”

“Did you text him because you’re acting as if you did ?”

“Uhm no, he usually comes in around now for lunch.”

“Is he carrying a shotgun ?”

“Uhm no.” Jade answered.

“Then get our food please.”

After she walked away Amy looked up at Lisa “what ?”

“Nothing, you Ok ?”

“Sure, you didn’t find that odd ?”

“Whatever it’s Jade, oop heads up. Ty, how are you ?”

“I’m fine Lisa, uhm Amy, I didn’t know you were back.”

“I got in yesterday on the sly, I didn’t let anyone know. How’ve you been ?”

“Uhm fine, you think maybe we could find some time to talk ?”

“Sure, I’m back on my old number.”

“Ok, well it’s good to see you.”

“You too.”

Ty nodded “well Ok then, I’ll call and we’ll set something up.”

Amy smiled and he nodded again and walked away.

“When did he become Caleb ?”

Lisa giggled “I think it’s the shock of just seeing you without notice Amy.”

“So he didn’t hit his head or anything, has the barber closed by the way, what is that mess on his head ?”

“It’s become a thing around here that hair business, I don’t know and I’m not too fond of it either.”

“One thing you can say about Europe, men take some pride in their appearance.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

It was a few days until Ty called. Before that Amy assumed that at one point he’d just show up at Heartland and mentioned it to Jack.

“He doesn’t come around much, your dad and he are like oil and water.”

“Could have seen that coming, the pot calling the kettle black.”

“So you meeting Ty ?”

“Maggie’s for breakfast tomorrow, don’t expect anything Grandpa.”

“You don’t miss him at all ?”

“I miss having sex with him, that’s not enough.”

“So you don’t love him ?”

“I’ll always love him Grandpa but I can’t just live the life he expects me to live because it makes him comfortable. Nor is there any payment in his mind that would ever make us equal as if there was a bill to pay.”

“No but maybe he …”

“It’s Ty Grandpa, he’s too full of himself to actually want more, he doesn’t feel deserving and never will and spending the rest of my life as his psychoanalyst doesn’t interest me. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh or it disappoints you. I expected a thank you and understanding from him and I got an endless circular argument. I know it seems that I landed on my feet and in one way, career-wise it has, but emotionally, mentally…..”

“I’m sorry Amy.”

“Life goes on Grandpa, there are no fairy tale endings. Us Flemings, we’re a broken lot no better or worse than the Bordens. Not a good mix.”

They delayed Spartan’s flight from Antwerp due to weather. Her friend Lara, a trainer with the French team had him and made the call. She had grown to love Spartan on rides with Amy and watching them do liberty and didn’t want him to suffer any undo fear. So on Friday morning when Amy met Ty for breakfast she would leave from there to the the airport with Scott.

It was awkward when Ty leaned over to kiss her. She looked at him sitting for a while until he smiled. “You set the rules, no talking about Europe.”

“What is all that ?” She asked pointing at his head.

“My hair, I don’t know, you don’t like it long ?”

“You don’t, well, comb it ?”

“Well, you know how my hair is.”

“Not when it’s short and groomed” she said it with her fingers pointing this way and that at his head.

“Ok whatever” Ty said exasperatedly “how are you ?”

“I’m fine Ty and you ?”

“I’m good, well excited I guess.”

“About ?”

“Oh I’ve been talking to these guys, well Bob Granger and I….”

“Wait Bob Granger ? Poacher Bob from the rescue ?”

“No, well yes, it’s a long story, anyway have you seen that thing about the Gobi bear ?”

“Yes, it’s absolutely gross.”

“Well Vets without Borders wants to send Bob and I to Mongolia to see what we can do.”

Amy sat and listened to him go on about helping the tribes with their herds and seeing if they can help with the bears.

“I’ll be gone about 4 months I think, give or take.”

“And Scott’s Ok with this ?”

“Yeah, we’ll put some things on temporary hold but he’s good.”

“Well, sounds like an adventure for sure.”

“Think we can get together and talk again or whatever when I get back.”

“Sure, I’ll be at Fairfield, I’m partnering with Lisa.”

“Really wow, that’s amazing, not starting up the business at Heartland again ?”

“There’s no room for me at Heartland and Lisa is actually excited and open to ideas.”

“I always thought you’d go back to fixing horses.”

Here we go Amy thought, “I‘ll be fixing horses at Fairfield Ty, just doing it alongside jumpers I’m training. One of the things I’m going to talk to Scott about this afternoon when we drive over to get Spartan.”

“Oh he didn’t mention it. So, uhm, I can call when I get back ?”

“You can always call me Ty.”

He smiled that crooked half embarrassed smile before leaning across the table for another weird kiss before getting up.

She watched him leave and walked over to the counter.

“How’d that go ?” Lou asked.

“Awkward as hell. He’s off to Mongolia, seems happy, what can I say ? I still think he’s spending too much time with Caleb and what’s with the hair ?”

The End.

[thedistantstorm]

Keep On Rising (Until The Sky Knows Your Name) 07

Found Family | Zavala is Tower Dad | Father-Daughter Relationship | Childhood Trauma and Recovery | Canon-Typical Violence | Amputation

A story about how an orphaned Amanda Holliday comes to belong in the Last Safe City and the family she finds along the way.

(Or, the story of how Commander Zavala finds himself responsible for one Amanda Holliday.)

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

This time: Fallen. Bet you never saw that coming.

-/

When he arrives back to Command - after having just arrived home - the entirety of control is bustling. Chaotic. There are alarms going off in the background - not the big alarms, but the ones that signal an attack within the City.  He strides in with purpose, his Ghost transmatting another tablet into his hands already loaded up with what he needs to know, linking him into the comms.

He does not need a briefing, his Ghost has informed him of everything they know so far. Fallen insurgents in a residential district, playing merry hell with the civilians. It made him furious, but he restrains himself. Evenly, he asks, “Do we have a fireteam on the ground?”

“Yes,” Ikora answers, from the other side of the table. “They’re on the scene. It’s a firestorm. An entire neighborhood is up in flames.”

From behind her, a tech reports, “Second team is en route, and medical crews are on standby.”

“Casualties?”

“None reported, but they won’t know until after we put out the fires.” The tech looks sheepish. “The… my visuals would suggest we’ll have several. I’ll keep you updated.”

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Cayde-6 is saying to Ikora. “They got into the residential districts how?” He taps his metal chin a few times, brow-plates furrowing, then jumps back, excited. “The sewers!” He exclaims.

"What?"

"That's how they got in!" He motions with a hand to gather his team to his end of the table. They lean in. "The runoff pipes were on your last budget-thingy," He looks at Zavala, "But we nixed it because FWC and New Monarchy wanted more money for that weapons agreement and Dead Orbit doesn't care because they figure the City is doomed anyway."

Ikora and Zavala trade glances.

"That is…" Zavala begins.

Ikora shakes her head.

"What?" Cayde gestures flamboyantly. "What?!"

"We never thought we'd see the day that you actually retained what happened in a Consensus meeting," Ikora quips. She turns her attention to a tech who hands her a report.

"Good work, Cayde," Zavala rumbles, almost impressed. Cayde would say he is very impressed, just too busy to show it. He'll ask for the praise again, later. The Commander has already started talking to the fireteam on the ground. 

It ends up being an all night affair. Takes six hours to put the fires out - literally - and then there’s all the red tape and trying to account for survivors, dead, and wounded. There’s only a handful of casualties, despite everything, and most of the wounded have smoke inhalation injuries. The critical injuries were thankfully minimal and all parties were taken for treatment. All in all, with the Fallen on the surface contained and Cayde organizing routes for strike teams to destroy any lingering threats below, it’s a night well spent.

This will not happen again. Zavala doesn’t give a damn about what the factions want. City infrastructure will not remain compromised on his watch. He certainly doesn’t feel good about it, these catastrophes happened, it was part of the job. But, they highlighted weak spots in their defenses, in their priorities and allowed them to rectify them before it becomes a large scale assault. 

He’s already thinking about what kind of defenses could be placed in the sewers when he leaves. Teams down there would be too costly, but cameras would likely be alright with some sort of passive weapon system. Maybe turrets would be wise.

“Zavala.”

The sound of the Speaker’s voice at the top of the stairs gives him pause. His familiar mask is impassive, a welcome sight. The Commander jogs up to meet the wise Warlock. He’s almost about to ask what the other man needs when he sees why the Speaker sought him out in the first place.

A familiar face is beside him, eyes red from crying. His stomach drops.

“She would like you to go with her,” The Speaker intones carefully. He dips his head, removing his arm from around the woman’s shoulder. “Assuming you have everything in order?”

“Yes, everything is in hand.” He looks to the matron. “What happened? Is everything alright?” 

The woman attempts to compose herself, but the Speaker puts an arm around her shoulders and hands her a handkerchief. “The situation last night,” He answers, instead. The woman sags against him, accepting the brief comfort. “One of her charges was injured. I believe you know her?”

The Commanders eyes flutter. “What?” He asks, almost in disbelief. His voice sounds hoarse to his own ears.

“She’d been telling them for months,” The woman murmurs, muffled by the Speaker’s robe. “They told her she was imagining things.” 

The Speaker sighs. “The damage is done,” He says, as kindly as he can. “All we can do is try to prevent it from happening again.” Still, he looks at Zavala, and though the Commander can’t see his eyes, he can feel the scrutiny.

It doesn’t matter, in that moment. Zavala asks, “Where is she? Is she alright?”

Karena shakes her head. “I don’t - they took her into surgery right away, but…” She wrings her hands. “They said they wouldn’t know right away. I have to go talk to the foster family. They’ve been treated and released. I-”

“Go with her,” The Speaker instructs. Whether he’s gleaned the specifics of the situation from whatever else Karena has said to him earlier remains to be seen, but Zavala doesn’t question it now. “I’ll check in with you later.”

Zavala can only nod.

-/

For a woman who had been sobbing moments earlier, Karena composes herself quickly. By the time they enter the Tower’s medical facility, it doesn’t even look like she’s shed a tear. Her dark eyes are firm, unyielding. A bit intimidating, even. She straightens her back and her shoulders level. Not for the first time, Zavala finds himself impressed with her.

They find the family in one of the large waiting rooms, two FOTC guards standing nearby. They’re not detailing the trio, who is clothed in sooty pajamas, but the three of them sit quietly in the full waiting room as though they’re being tried for a crime. The mother is curled in on herself, her husband’s are around her, holding her close. Nearby, a children’s program plays on the screen, but the child does not pay any attention to it, his gaze trained on the sterilized floor.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” Karena says quietly, drawing their attention.

As expected, they don’t look to the matron. Their eyes are trained on the Commander. He looks to Karena. “Don’t mind me,” He says, softly.

“Momma,” The boy says softly, “Are we in trouble?”

Karena shakes her head. “No, sweetheart,” She says softly. “You’re all free to go. I just wanted to make sure we were all on the same page.”

The parents nod. Quietly, Mrs Baumsol says, “I didn’t think - she said she knew how to hide, and we never would have been able to-”

Her husband puts a hand over hers, clasped together in her lap. “We take full responsibility. We should have taken her concerns seriously. We just - we knew there would be difficulties adjusting. We just figured she wanted attention. We’ve never had something like this happen before.”

“You won’t get her back,” Karena tells them. “I realize it was an honest mistake, but, after this, she’ll never feel safe with you. To be transparent,” She sighs. “I don’t believe I would recommend you to foster another child.”

Mr Baumsol dips his head in a solemn nod. “We understand. We just pray she pulls through.” At that, his wife begins sobbing with renewed vigor.

Zavala’s eyes meet Karena’s, bright and alarmed. “What-” He closes his eyes. “What happened?”

The husband and wife have a wordless conversation, the wife tipping her head, indicating for her husband and son to leave her with the other two. The boy looks fearfully at his mother, but she gives him a brave smile and nods.

“We were trying to find a place to hide. My husband had gone to get our gun from the safe in our bedroom,” She wipes her eyes and nose, coughing a bit from obvious smoke inhalation. “There wasn’t-” She sighs. “There wasn’t enough room in the crawlspace for the three of us, and Benji - my son - wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t be quiet, he was terrified and they found us...” She blinks through more tears and looks up at the both of them, seeming terribly small in her seat. “Amanda - I don’t even know where she got it - she threw something at them. An improvised incendiary, whatever it was, it blew up in the thing's face. It was a big one, I think the Guardians called it a Captain?” Zavala nods. “It grabbed her. I ran. There was no way if that thing got to either of us that we’d be able to escape.” Her brows knit together as her lip trembles. “I-I know that’s selfish, but I never would have been able to beat them and I wanted our son to live.” 

Zavala looks down and away, his irises reduced to a dull glow. “I’m sorry,” He says with great sincerity, his personal feelings brushed aside. “What you went through must have been horrifying. We have teams working to secure the district, and I promise you we will do everything possible to prevent it from happening again and to help you and your family rebuild.” 

The woman nods. “I just feel so guilty,” She clenches her fists. “We should have listened-”

“It cannot be undone,” Karena interjects, coolly, the Speaker’s earlier words reiterated with a sharp edge. “Amanda is a very special child. I told you that when you took her in. Her experiences are unique.”

“We know.”

Zavala asks in his most soothing voice, “Do you know which Guardians brought her in?”

“I don’t,” Mrs Baumsol bites her lip, endlessly shaking her head. “They med-evacced her right away, we never even saw her. All the doctors have told me is that they were trying to save her leg, but since you’re here now,” She looks to Karena, “They won’t talk to us at all.”

It clearly takes a lot of Karena’s willpower not to yell at the woman, but she remains composed, though her hands remain clasped behind her back to prevent anyone from seeing them shake. The moment the Baumsol family leaves, she’s pacing in front of the wide, blue-tinted windows that look out over part of the Tower and the City below.

“I never should have recommended them. I should have known.”

“You had no way of knowing this situation would come up.”

“It’s not this situation, Commander.” Karena turns back from the window. “I should have known they wouldn’t have listened to her. Everything was white-picket fences and happy-go-lucky. I should have known they would have crumbled under pressure.”

“These are extenuating circumstances,” Zavala urges her. “And I… did agree with your selection as well. Allow me to at least shoulder some of the blame.”

Karena sighs. “I don’t think blaming you would make me feel any better, Commander.” She pats him on the shoulder, mindful of his armor. “I’m going to get some tea. It’s going to be a long day. Would you like anything?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll wait here in case one of the doctors come out with an update.” Once she departs, his Ghost flickers into view, hovering in close. He’s taken a seat on one of the benches, his head in his hands. He’s exhausted, but not in a way that suggests he’d be able to sleep if he tried.

“It’ll be alright, Zavala,” The little bot tells him in a soft whisper. “She’s a tough one.”

“I don’t,” He closes his eyes, not knowing how to proceed and the Ghost makes a chirring sound, a synthetic tone of both endearment and comfort. Without words, he asks her: What am I supposed to do?

The Ghost looks around, doing a quick scan for anyone who might see them, then brushes her fins against the worry-lines marring his forehead in a rare moment of physical affection. Now isn’t the time for what she thinks on the subject. Calmly, apologetically, she tells him aloud, “For now, all we can do is wait.”

[nowhere-herenow]

CASA contribution for today...

Morning reflection, January 26, 2020:

 “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.” Romans 12:2

 Before I ever became a believer, I always thought that Christians were supposed to be different from everyone else. The fact that they didn’t seem to be all that different was actually a stumbling block for me.

 In the verse above from Paul's letter to the Romans, we read that we are in fact supposed to be different from everyone else; we're not supposed to conform but rather be transformed by the renewing of our minds. We talk about our baptism being symbolic of dying and being resurrected. We talk about being born again. And what did Jesus say to Nicodemus? "No one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again." This implies a change doesn't it?

 In the Gospels, Jesus is clearly teaching us that we are all called to something bigger, better, deeper, and just plain different from what’s considered normal in this temporal world. But what does that really mean? What does it mean to be transformed by the renewing of the mind? To be born again? To not conform to the pattern of the world? I ask myself these questions all the time.

 Over the years, I’ve heard people say things like: Christians shouldn’t watch R-rated movies, Christians shouldn’t listen to certain music, they shouldn’t wear certain clothes, or go to certain festivals and support certain ideas or programs, etc. But is all that really what not being conformed to the world is all about? Or is that way of thinking just turning a deep-rooted spiritual message into a list of things that are and are not culturally acceptable for us at this time?

 If we look back at Jesus’ teachings, in Matthew 5 we see that Jesus’ way was in direct contradiction to the way and common wisdom of the world: “Blessed are the weak… the poor in spirit… those that mourn… those that are persecuted.” He continues, “When someone hits you, turn the other cheek… when someone steals your stuff, offer them more… love your neighbor, (here’s the big one!) love your enemy too!”

 The common wisdom of the day is, “Nah Jesus didn’t really mean for us to live that way. That’s impossible. Those are just some high and lofty ideals, that's all.” 

 This past Monday we remembered an individual that did live that way. Not perfectly so, but in a way nonetheless so large that it helped transform an entire nation. Martin Luther King Jr. never wanted to be the leader of a major national movement to end segregation. He just wanted to follow in the footsteps of his father and be a Baptist preacher, but God had different plans. And when the position of leader of the civil rights movement was thrust on him at the age of 26 he didn’t take the job lightly.

 King decided that he would not result to violence of any form, but rather he would follow those impossible teachings that Jesus laid out during the sermon on the mount. When someone struck him or one of his followers on the cheek, they would turn and offer the other one.

 And King meant it. At one time, while giving a speech in Birmingham, AL, a white man rushed the stage and began beating King with his fists. As those around King began to try and defend him, King shouted out, “Don’t touch him! We have to pray for him.” Could you imagine being a black man in the south during this time and seeing all the awful things that white people were doing to people of your race and still having the God given grace to say, “Don’t touch him, we have to pray for him.”

 We look at the sermon on the mount and we think, ‘it’s too difficult, it’s overwhelming, I can’t do it.’ But we have been empowered to at least live it out in part if not fully. Now, we may look at the lives of people like King or other larger than life figures in history and think, sure they did it, but I’m just an ordinary person, I’m not that strong.

 I want to share one more story with you today. This is a true story from 2008:

 A 31 years old social worker, Julio Diaz, was headed to his favorite diner to eat after work one day. As he got off the train in the Bronx a teen approached him wielding a knife. The young man demanded Julio’s wallet. Julio complied. After the teen turned to walk off Julio called out to him, “Wait. If you’re going to be robbing people all night you might as well take my coat also, to keep you warm.”

 The teen was a bit bewildered and he asked, “Why are you doing this?”

 Julio replied, “If you’re willing to risk your life for a few dollars then I guess you must really need the money. I mean, all I really wanted to do was get dinner and if you really want to join me… hey, you’re more than welcome.”

 The teen goes with him, and as they sit at the diner all the employees there, the manager, the wait staff and even the cooks come and say hi to Julio. The kid was like, “You know everybody here. Do you own this place?”

 "No, I just eat here a lot," he told the teen.

 “But you're even nice to the dishwasher."

 Julio replied, "Well, haven't you been taught you should be nice to everybody?"

 "Yea, but I didn't think people actually behaved that way," the teen said.

 When the bill arrived, Diaz told the teen, "Look, I guess you're going to have to pay for this bill 'cause you have my money and I can't pay for this. So if you give me my wallet back, I'll gladly treat you."

 The teen "didn't even think about it" and returned the wallet, Diaz says. "I gave him $20 ... I figure maybe it'll help him. I don't know."

 Diaz says he asked for something in return — the teen's knife — "and he gave it to me."

 The wisdom and the way of this world in our day would say that Julio should’ve been armed and he should’ve shot this teen in self-defense. Had he done so he likely would’ve been held as a hero in the eyes of many. But he didn’t. He chose instead to ignore the ‘wisdom’ of the world and do as Jesus taught. The kid asked for his wallet and he offered him his coat also. Then he took him to dinner, and listened to him. He looked at the young man not as a threat or an enemy, but as another one of God’s children lost along the way, a friend, a human being.

 That is how we become a people transformed by his love, a people that reflect his grace and mercy. It’s not about the clothes you wear, the music you listen to, the movies you watch; it’s about risking everything to bring even one lost child back home to our Creator.

 “Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternity.” (John 12:25)

 We are called to something bigger, better, and deeper than this temporal world.

 Be light. Be love. Be hope.

 Blessings!

[fernwehbookworm]

Woke The F*ck Up- Chapter 12

Kara threw herself into both her jobs. The gym opened and so she was training people during the day and hunting Cadmus at night. She stopped even bothering to go to her apartment. When her lease ended two weeks after the break up she just moved everything into storage instead of renewing it, keeping the essentials and living in the Super Cave. Alex grew worried, dragging Kara to her apartment once a week for movie nights that usually ended in both sisters drinking. And crying.

Alex was slowly getting over Maggie but it still sucked, loving someone and knowing they loved you but being torn apart by different futures. After the crying, Kara usually painted. Most the time she didn’t remember them but she would wake to paint splattered on her clothes and hands in Alex’s spare room. Most of the time they were of Lena in some form. Others were just full of angry brush strokes and harsh colors.

Lillian hadn’t returned to National City as far as Kara knew and they had only located a couple warehouses with even fewer arrests. Even though the secret organization Alex worked with, she was still tight-lipped about, knew about Kara’s activities, she had had no contact with them. They were able to keep the Cadmus agents in prison which was a good thing. Kara didn’t know how but at least she didn’t feel like she was stuck in an endless episode of Roadrunner where she was Wile E. Coyote. In the third week since the break up she called Lena. Sent straight to voicemail but she was drunk enough to leave a message. Alex had passed out and couldn't stop Kara like she usually did. Kara was proud that she was able to keep her voice steady and not slur her words. Rationally, she knew she should just focus on her mission here in National City, but her heart wasn't rational. She wasn't even very angry anymore. Just sad and hurt. But even then, she just blamed herself. She should have told Lena earlier. Maybe then this wouldn't have happened because then Lena would have known why Kara was missing all the flights and phone calls. Even now the flimsy excuses for not telling Lena held up like wet paper towels under the weight of her heavy heart. She just wanted to tell Lena in person. So Lena could see her face and know it was the truth. Christmas came and went, then New Years.

When nights were slow in crime, that's when Kara found herself in her own criminal activities. She stumbled upon it on accident while patrolling. It was stupid, she knew, but it helped her with forgetting in a way she couldn't with alcohol. She became the rawest forms of her emotions, letting her anger at everything that had been happening in her life, out. The fight club was a TV cliche, but it pulled her in anyway. Dark warehouses and underground places, seething with angry people yelling and shaking fists. Placing bets on outcomes. She didn't fight as Power Girl, though she still wore a mask to hide the lower half of her face. She went by the name Andromeda and was currently undefeated. Bringing in major cash, donating most of it back into the youth centers that were hit hardest by Cadmus’ cruelty. By the fourth week after the breakup, the name Andromeda was whispered through the underground scene as much as Power Girl was shouted about above.

Kara rarely slept. Sleeping met seeing Lena’s face in a way she couldn’t avoid like when she was awake. Sleeping meant dreaming about soft pale skin and sharp green eyes only to have it torn away by waking up. Sleeping wasn't the nightmare, waking was. It hurt every time so it was easier to just stay awake. Sleeping came in the form of passing out with her sister or until her head throbbed and her eyelids drooped shut without her permission. The shadows under her eyes were beginning to be harder to hide. Makeup could only do so much when she sweat it off one way or another almost as soon as it was on. But still, Alex said nothing until two months after the breakup.

She had stopped drinking with Kara, only taking care of her sister when she had too much in the safety of Alex’s apartment. But Alex had enough when she walked into Kara’s office in The Power House as Kara desperately tried to cover up a black eye.

**

January 11th, 2018

Kara went to one of the underground fights the night before and the guy got in a lucky hit. It was the first time she had been hit in the face during a fight since high school. Kara still won but it hurt like hell. Kara jumped in her chair when her sister burst in unannounced an hour before Kara’s first class. Alex took in the dark bruising and her eyes hardened.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, just some thug last night.”

“Don’t lie to me. Winn invited me to hang out with him and James. Power Girl was not out last night.” Alex crosses her arms, somehow she seemed bigger as she stood in the doorway, physically blocking Kara’s escape.

“I can go out without Winn and James,” she says defensively.

“Lie.”

“No, it's not.”

“Tell that to the crinkle in your forehead.” Damn, she knows me too well. Kara thinks.

“It's nothing Alex, I’ve had black eyes before.” Alex uncrosses her arms and Kara can almost feel the anger rolling off her sister.

“If it was nothing, you would tell me. And the last time you had a black eye was when you and James were trying to fight off twenty heavily armed, well trained, men. What happened?” Alex’s tone left no room for argument. Kara stares at her sister trying to find a way out of this. Alex raises an eyebrow pointedly.

“It was just a fight.”

“Just a fight?”

“For money.” Kara mumbles.

“Kara! Are you fucking kidding me? Those underground clubs that usually end with someone in critical care?” Alex raised her voice and Kara stood, suddenly very defensive of her actions.

“Those people are the idiots who refuse to tap out. I know my limits and I have been nowhere near them. No one can beat me. This was just a lucky shot from a desperate man who bet more than he should have on winning.”

“No one can beat you?”

“I’m undefeated.”

“Of fucking course you’re Andromeda. Of course, you would paint a bigger target on your back because you couldn’t just have one secret life, you need two.” Alex says, exasperated.

“What I need is a sister who doesn't look down on everything I do.” Kara spits back.

“Don’t you dare. I have been nothing but supportive since you came back from London.”

“Yes, since I had my heart fucking broken. But you haven't been supportive of Power Girl. Not even really Le…. About her. You have indulged me in everything I've done but you haven't been supportive. You are critical and condescending. Just waiting for me to fuck up so you can be right.”

Alex gaps at the accusation. Then she peers closer at her sister. Alex walks around the desk and begins pulling open drawers, despite her protesting sister. The last draw opens with a loud rattle and the whiskey bottle slide to the front. Half of it is gone. Alex sniffs toward her sister, then cringes away.

“Really Kara? Drunk at 7 am?”

“What does it matter.”

Alex ignores her sister, she rummages around for a pen and paper scrawling ‘ Closed for Family Emergency’ across it before adding tape. She unexpectedly pulls Kara into a painful hold with her sister’s arm twisted behind her back.

“What are you doing?” She spits angrily. Alex continues to ignore her and proceeds to dial a number into her phone.

“It's me… I need an emergency session... We are on our way now… No, she isn't coming willingly, but this has gone on long enough… We will be there in ten.”

“Where are we going?” Kara resigns to her sister's strength. In her current state, she wouldn't be able to beat the older Danvers.

“To see Dr. Hamilton.”

Kara tries to protest but her sister twists her arm harder and forces her out of the building.

Kara sits on the leather couch with her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. Dr. Hamilton sits patiently with a notepad in the chair just out of Kara's direct line of sight. Kara stares blankly ahead, not wanting to be here. Although, there is a strange sense of comfort. The office hadn't changed since she had last been here. Warm wood paneling with a large oak desk. It had the comforts of a sitting room with fresh flowers in the window. Kara had pretty well sobered up on the drive over as she prepared to see her therapist for the first time in years. After fifteen minutes, Dr. Hamilton breaks the silence.

“Kara, I know you don't want to be here. That much is clear. But you know your sister won't let you be unless you say something. Anything.” She's met with silence. She tries again after a few minutes.

“You opened up a gym, right? How is that going? Any members?”

Kara ponders speaking. The gym was a safe subject. She clears her throat.

“Yeah. It's doing really well. For the most part, it's just a gym but I'm also offering different sessions. The Crossfit one is really taking off. I'll need to hire more trainers soon.”

“Well, that's good. What made you want to start one?”

“Jeremiah, actually. If he hadn't started me on the path he did, I wouldn't be able to… I wouldn't be where I am in life. I hope that when this takes off I can start scholarships for teens to bring them in. Take then to competitions. Help teach them control and get them off the streets. A lot of different fighting competitions will offer college scholarships. I got that idea after…” Kara trails off. She got the idea when Lena talked about getting STEM and music programs into LGBT shelters so that those kids would be able to get scholarships that way.

“After what?”

Kara snaps her mouth closed and buries her face in her arms. Tears sting her eyes. Kara takes a shuddering breath.

“After my ex-girlfriend started doing the same in children’s shelters.”

“Is that what has your sister worried? This break up?” Kare shrugs, non-committedly.

“Or is it the vigilantism?” Kara’s head snaps up and she glares at the dark haired woman.

“Don’t worry, Alex had me sign the most airtight NDA I have ever seen. Plus Kara, I figured it out a long time ago. I treated you through one of the hardest times in your life. I am just surprised you didn’t start sooner.”

Kara cries. She cries for a long time. Then she just talks. She talks about all her frustrations. It feels good not to have to watch her words or feel judged. All Dr. Hamilton does is listen, offering a few words here and there to keep Kara going. One hour turns into two before the doctor calls it a day. Kara makes another appointment for two days later and finds Alex in the lobby dozing in an armchair. She starts when the door opens and stands to greet her sister.

“Hey,” she says shyly.

Kara pulls her sister into a tight hug.

“Thank you.”

“Breakfast?”

“Please.”

**

January 19th, 2018

It takes four sessions for Kara to open up about Lena. It starts easy. Kara talking about how they met and all the places they went. Kara talks about Lena’s smile and how the color of her eyes changes from a seafoam green to as deep as a pine tree. Kara laughs so hard she starts to cry. Then she does cry. Over the hurt of how they ended. Over Veronica. Even if Lena didn’t expect Kara to come, that was the worst part. Anyone else would be better, a stranger would have been better. But it felt like Lena was saying that Veronica was better than Kara so she ran straight to her arms.

“Do you still want to be with her?” Dr. Hamilton asks.

“I-I don’t know. I- she- I love her. But she didn’t give me a chance. She was so scared of me leaving her, that she left me. No matter how much I told her that she was wonderful and beautiful she still doubted it. She doubted everything.”

“That seems like a very one-sided relationship then. That is a lot of pressure to have to constantly reassure your partner.”

“Sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes she made it so easy. The rest of the time it was hard. Like I might say something that she would take wrong.” Dr. Hamilton nods at Kara to keep her talking. It was almost good to start picking out Lena’s flaws. It helped to break the perfect image Kara had of the Singer. Well, not perfect, she knew Lena had flaws, but it helped break the glowing bubble she had placed their relationship in.

After three more sessions, Kara agreed to just start meeting once a week. Regular sessions so Kara could stay on top of her feelings and have a safe place to talk about all of her secrets.  Andromeda disappeared with great speculation from the underground fighting clubs. That chapter of Kara's life was at an end. She couldn't believe how stupid she had been about the whole thing. Alex was right, one secret Life was enough.

Power Girl had been needed less also. Since Lex Luthor's arrest, Cadmus had settled down. Weapons sales had been becoming fewer and fewer and the technology had been less and less sophisticated. It was clear the LexCorp was the main reason that Cadmus was able to stay afloat. Crime was on the decline so Kara was able to focus on The Power House. It was a busy place now, with Kara able to hire on four other trainers and some part-time high school students for simple cleaning and customer service.

The gym was bright and open with a red and blue color scheme. James had even found old photos from Kara's competition days and printed them out. They hung on the walls proudly, even if the one that had Jeremiah pained her to look at. This was something he would have been proud of, he would have been sitting at the front desk every day, if he was still alive, talking to new members and telling awful jokes. Kara can almost see his phantom, the future that could have been. She shakes her head and makes a mental note to talk to Dr. Hamilton about that. She finishes strapping on her gloves before stepping into the small boxing ring with the woman who hired her for private lessons.

**

February 23, 2018

Kara’s days fall into a simple rhythm. Gym, vigilante, sleep. Once a week Alex kept up their sister nights, nither drinking anymore, and also Kara would go to therapy once a week. It was comfortable and simple. As simple as being a vigilante could be. Her art collection was growing too. Dr. Hamilton had suggested Kara try painting each stage of her and Lena’s relationship to help her process everything better. The rhythm was broken when Lena’s face was plastered all over National City. She had been named the new CEO of LexCorp because her brother had ensured the company would fall to her before he was even arrested. Now, several government agencies were investigating her and the company. Slander and rumors were circulating the last remaining Luthor and Kara wanted so badly to reach out, to call her, to make sure she wasn’t spirling as hard as she admitted to after Lionel killed himself. She hasn't even tried contact Lena since the drunken voicemail that received no response, not that Kara was surprised. But she wanted to now, even just to hear her voice. Kara canceled her private session that day and went to see Dr. Hamilton.

[fallout2282]

The Office of the President, Hall of Congress

Shady Sands, New California Republic

Yulia Arteaga sat in her office chair, fiddling with the Two Headed Bear Flag pin between her fingers. She unclasped it, bringing it up to her chest so that she might wear it at her heart, as was customary. It was a gift from her predecessor, a symbol of office. She wanted nothing of Kimball’s and she refused to watch as her staff moved his portrait into storage, replacing it with a painting to rival it, depicting her own visage. She stood for four hours so that the artist they commissioned, someone from her home state, the Boneyard, could accurately transfer her image to the canvas. She wore the pin in the painting too, a detail added afterwards. It had originally belonged to President Tandi, the Great Mother, before being passed along to Tibbett, Peterson, Kimball, and now her. It was a symbol of office, no matter what she wore, as long as she carried that pin it was like she like she radiated with the commanding aura of high office. Her predecessor, now retired against his will to some ranch outside the Hub, preferred old world style suits where as Yulia was often accused of looking something like a cross between a field hand and a factory worker. She liked the brahmin leather vest her Bear Flag was now pinned to, and the earthy tones of her checkered button up and slacks. She wore the same outfit in the painting. The artist thought it fitting, she was the young populist who was taking California by storm. Her majority in Congress was secure, now that Chief Hanlon won the race in Redding and was now Senator Hanlon. She was going to need the allies in the months to come as it became apparent making peace was far more complicated than making war. A detail Kimball neglected to mention when he handed over the keys to the Republic. Her train of thought was interrupted when the door to her office flew open.

“Yulia! You’ll never believe it. Dennis Crocker agreed to stay on until the drafting process for the treaty is finished. It’s just like you said, maybe he really is different from those other Kimball holdovers after all. He thinks you should meet with Chief Executive-” It was her aid, Maxim. He had been with her since her days as a labor organizer in Adytum. He managed her campaign for an Angel’s Boneyard council seat and didn’t even ask for an appointment to some cushy job in the bureaucracy. Although, being aide to the president came with similar guarantees of job security and long term financial security. 

“It’s Madame President now, Maxim.” She made the deals, led the censure, and cast the first vote of Kimball’s downfall. She earned her position. Now she just had to keep it, and that meant any deal with New Vegas had to insure the lights stayed on. At least until the project she arranged with the Followers of the Apocalypse was complete. It would be funny if it wasn’t so frustrating. The Mojave Campaign was Kimball’s war, and he lost his job over it. Now it seemed most of her job was picking up the pieces, when she had campaigned on an extensive program promising to fix the many problems at home. 

“The answer is no. I’ll give it my signature, but Crocker can shake that man’s hand. He knows if the deal screws us, I’ll screw him harder. I like the good Ambassador, but if he expects to come back to a career he has to earn it. Speaking of which, draw me up a list of candidates to take his place once the negotiations are finished. If his plan does work I’ll want him running for a seat here in the next election. I know Thaler’s will soon be up for grabs, and he might act like a friend, but we all know he didn’t vote with us when we got rid of Kimball. His days on the council are numbered.”

“Yes, Madame President. My apologies Madame President. I will send out word to the State Department to have a list drawn up at once. As for Councilman Thaler, we should avoid alienating him until after the vote tomorrow. He has been more than supportive of the Crimson Caravan inquiry. Alice McLafferty was forced out of her post in the Mojave branch, it’s practically an admission of guilt on their part. If he thinks we intend to endorse someone else for his seat, he could end up voting with Senator Morales. And if Morales rallies the governors then they will certainly shut down the investigation and shut down this investigation” her aide said with great uncertainty. She couldn’t blame him for his skepticism. Aaron Kimball was wildly popular until he wasn’t. All Yulia had to do was alienate the wrong person and she could lose her majority. Then it would be all over. 

“Have a little more confidence in me, Maxim. I didn’t win the Presidency for the novelty of it. I intend to hold on to this seat for as long as I can. The people aren’t so fickle as to turn on me yet. Thaler will vote for me because if he doesn’t again, then it is a certainty he will lose his seat. I might have been a councilor for Adytum, but I was born in Shady Sands. Now I represent all of California. And it’s about some time someone stood up to the merchant houses. And don’t call the representatives from Hub that, their heads are already big as it is” She was right, and Maxim knew it too when she said it. Yulia had always spoken truth to power, and now she was the power. Not the only one, granted. That’s just how it was in democracies. Still, that wouldn’t stop her from using the authority she was given to hold her colleagues to account.  

“We can discuss tomorrow’s vote later. There’s still a lot of other work to be done. Have we received a report from General Hsu yet? What’s the status of the withdrawal?” Military matters were the one aspect of governing she was new to. She had coordinated with the military in the past, back in Adytum during one of the multiple operations against the raider gangs that are pervasive in the Boneyard. Yet she only ever acted as a point of contact then, now she was Commander in Chief. 

Maxim cleared his throat, “Slowly, but surely Madame President. The General and the Ambassador were able to convince the new management in New Vegas to allow a handful of our forces to remain at the Dam and watch over our civilian personnel that will stay there. Long term arrangements haven’t been decided yet, but the General is unsure of the prudence in leaving the Dam in the hands of those... robots. He seems uncertain if we even have a choice in the matter. You’ve already seen the projections. A renewed conflict is not likely to be in our electoral interests. As for the full withdrawal to Mojave Outpost, we are expecting the last of our forces to be safely within the border in three weeks time.”

“Sooner we conclude this business the better. What of the Legion? The rangers set out after the battle to scout their territory and I’ve yet to see a report land on my desk. I would hate to leave our new friends on the Strip defenseless against such savages.” Yulia folded her arms, leaning back against the desk. 

“The robots were actually quite thorough in their assault on Fortification Hill. The military seems to think the enemy was quite completely demolished. Caesar had died three months earlier, reportedly of a botched attempt to remove tumors from his brain. As for the rest of the Legion’s leadership, they are all believed to have perished in the battle.” Now he was just rehashing what she already knew.

“What about the east? Arizona... New Mexico. Those places. I recall from the archives we sent scouts out that way decades ago. There are people out there. The Legion’s people. What will happen to them?” That was the real question. If Kimball had succeeded, if the NCR had annexed New Vegas, would they have been next? Would the NCR have kept going? Just like the old world. That she didn’t like to imagine. 

“Our commanders speculate what is left of the Legion will converge on Flagstaff. That I suppose you would call the Legion’s capital. It’s also where Caesar left his heirs, supposedly. General Hsu has assured us that the Legion isn’t a threat to the Mojave, let alone us here in California.” Maxim knew as much as she did. They would both be left to wonder until the rangers they sent east reported in. It could be months, and that’s if any of them managed to cross back over the Colorado. 

The Mojave Campaign began decades ago, back then the NCR only had to contend with the same raider tribes they had been fighting and beating for generations. Jackals, Vipers, Khans, all scattered to the wastes. The war with the Legion only began in 2277 when their warband attempted to seize Hoover Dam the first time. All the while her country was being bled try. More lives and more money than she could imagine. Costlier than every other war fought in California combined. Not mentioned in official reports, the rumor was General Lee Oliver died not at the hands of the Legion, but after the battle had already ended. Thrown off of the side of the dam by one of the robots that now defended New Vegas. She chose not to ask if it was true when she received her first briefing from the military, after all it allowed blame for the defeat to fall squarely on Kimball’s shoulders. And he deserved it. She wouldn’t make his mistakes. 

“I can’t tell if we were lucky, or unlucky. We won the battle and still lost the war.” She chuckled at the irony, at the sheer stupidity of it all. “We saved the damn... dam, and it doesn’t even seem like we’ll be able to keep it. First we get strung along by the seemingly-immortal Mr. House, and now we’re negotiating with a former Vault dweller with a gambling addiction? We clearly didn’t play our cards right, even though for all intents and purposes we had a winning hand.”

Maxim nodded in agreement, ever willing to play the sycophant. “Poor governance ultimately makes for poor policy decisions, Madame President. I believe you will lead us towards a much brighter future. One where the people of New Vegas are our friends, not subjects.” 

“Friends? We’ll just see what terms Crocker wins for us. I’ve no intention of getting us into another war, if that’s what your concern is. Still need to see about making states out of the territories up north before I go looking for more outside of our borders. Congress can’t deny the territories real representation forever. We give Arroyo and Klamath statehood, and I won’t have to worry about losing my majority for as long as I’m President.” She sighed, “First we need to see about officially ending this war and bringing our men and women in uniform back from the front. Once the withdrawal is complete we’ll set up the podium in front of the statue of Tandi in Republic Square. It won’t just be to welcome the troops home, but another state of the republic address.”

“Very good, Madame President. I also brought that report you requested last week. It took some time for the rangers to compile it. This one’s complete at least. I thought you would want to have a look at it before the committee did.” On the desk next to Yulia, her aide placed a folder that was so full of paper that it was nearly as thick as some of the books in her office. 

Yulia took one look at the folder’s contents, thumbing through the various pages of eye witness testimony collected in the Mojave and official statements by other officials in the NCR. This one file alone would could take up the rest of her afternoon just to read. “One question, Maxim.” She pursed her lips, her curiosity piqued. 

“What’s that Madame President?” “Who the hell is this Courier?” 

[rksungho]

When you arrive at KT Entertainment, one of your trainers immediately directs you to Katie Lee’s office. As expected, CEO Lee is seated behind her desk. She directs you to the empty chair across from her, and when you take the seat you recognize the man next to you as the lawyer who was present on the day you auditioned for the company.

“Two years. It’s already been two years,” Ms. Lee says, glancing down at her paperwork as if to make sure it was true. “From where you started to where you are now- well, your coaches are rather impressed.” She closes the beige folder and sets it to one side, revealing a different set of paperwork underneath. “I’m impressed, too, but I think we can do more together. You’re not ready to debut just yet, but if you stay with KT, you’ll be ready soon.” She pushes the paperwork toward you, turning it to face you; it’s just as you remember, even down to the colored Post-It flags sticking out from between the pages, showing you exactly where to sign.

this is it. the moment he’s been anticipating, dreading, waiting for, wary for. sungho is barely through the door when he’s being lead down a too-familiar hallway, and immediately he recalls the last time he had been here. it had been scarier then, since he didn’t know what was coming. he could’ve left, though it would have felt more like being kicked out early. sungho didn’t then, pride and anger having him drop the pen on the desk and walk away from the termination papers. since then how he’s wished he left. his happiest days even recently have been the ones spent outside of the training building and with jeonghan and his friends.

two years. the time had ticked by so slowly, so painfully. sungho, forced into proximity with his oldest enemy, angry every day, pushing away every kind gesture and friendly face that tried to welcome him to this place. even the friends he had made left all too soon; jihoon left for sphere and debut, yeri and ariel also debuted and are rarely seen around the training complex anymore. he and jeonghan fought. many times. once, the day after the last time he had come to this part of the building, they fought to the point of nearly no return. this damned company has nearly taken everything from him, and sungho can’t forget that.

“from where you started to where you are now- well, your coaches are rather impressed.”

sungho doesn’t really believe it. he’s worked hard, sure, but he hasn’t done anything more than any other trainee here. hell, he’s done all the wrong things. the fights he’s gotten into, the arguments and shouting matches he just can’t resist, his incessant cursing. his bad attitude has hardly let up. the other trainees have given up on him, or at least johnny and his immeasurable patience has. 

and yet even he knows that’s not entirely true.

how many of the boys has he talked to with this deadline coming up? aron, taemin, sunwoo a little bit, even johnny in a way. how many of them said they were looking forward to seeing him go? not a single one. no one tried to convince him to stay, at least not explicitly, but sungho gave them every opportunity to say how they really feel, express their excitement for him being kicked out of this place right to his face. except now he’s not being kicked out, and he’s not certain if he still wants to go.

he thinks of jeonghan and a computer screen, watching him put ‘kt’ into the bar for dream company. he thinks of joking that he should put it into second dream company too, just because they suggested that he doesn’t. he thinks about what the person dearest to him had said:“i’m sitting here getting ready to make a fool of myself just for a shot to join you.” sungho stares down at the contract apprehensively, the same way someone would stare at a ticking time bomb. it’s useless to ask for more time to decide, he knows they want his answer right away. so he just takes all the time he needs to stare at the menacing paper and pen before he attempts any decision.

katie lee herself is sitting in front of him, waiting for his decision. sungho glances from the contract to her and back again, wondering if she remembers him from the last time he was here, or maybe from her kt rookies program. he doubts it, she might’ve been harsher with him now if she had.

silently, he thumbs down the post-it notes sticking out, not bothering to flip through the pages just yet. he picks up the pen, and still hesitates. eyes scan hopelessly over the print; he already knows what it says. two years, no promise of debut, and maybe they won’t kick him out early this time. he wonders if ms. lee is losing her patience with him and his hesitation, if she’ll snatch her contract back as he takes too long to decide. he wouldn’t blame her, and ultimately it’d make his decision a lot easier if he didn’t have one in the first place. but she doesn’t, and sungho stares at the place where he should leave his signature and wonders.

“i just want to get rid of the version of you that hates being here.” it’s taemin’s voice in his head now. if he signs this contract, will he be able to hate it here less? it’s taken two years almost to the day, but for the first time he’s realized maybe no one here is out to get him, or on a mission to change him. maybe he can be both jin sungho and kt’s jino. they’ve made him do enough acting by now that he should know how to play a part, and maybe that part could be a team player rather than the lone wolf. maybe he could do it. he thought he could after the new year concert, the first time his name was revealed under the kt banner.

he hesitates at the moment he touches the pen to the paper. until he makes the first stroke of his name, it’s not official. he could drop it right now and walk out, done with this place forever. but he doesn’t. he scribbles out the curves and angles of his name and stares at his signature on the paper for a long moment before flipping to the next page in the contract where they want his initials. it’s easier as he goes through the tabs, with every stroke his decision more final.

jin sungho has signed two more years to kt entertainment. i must have lost my damn mind.

OOC NOTE: First of all, congratulations to two years as a trainee! I know it’s been a long and crazy journey, and I’m so glad you’ve stuck through it. When you are ready, feel free to post this prompt with Sungho’s response to it.

Should Sungho choose to RENEW his contract with KT, he will sign on to the same agreement as before for another two years. As a reward for making it this far, he will receive ONE WEEK unpaid vacation time to use any time between now the start of September, so long as it doesn’t clash with any special trainee activities.

Should he choose to REJECT his contract with KT, he will leave the company, effective immediately upon rejection. He will be able to keep all of his debut points, but will not be able to take any trainee workshops or earn any more debut points/workshop points until he becomes a trainee again. He will not have any special advantage over newer characters when he auditions for other companies in the future, and should he become a trainee at a new company he will be considered a junior trainee all over again, even though he will still have his debut points and would be eligible for debut right away. He WILL have the right to audition for KT again, but the fact that he gave up a contract renewal WILL be taken into account in final casting decisions.

He will have up to one week to make his decision IC, meaning that if he does not make a decision by JUNE 16TH, he will automatically be cut from the company. Exceptions can be made for those on hiatus.

[cosmosbv]

Cosmos Market

Hi All

It has been a month since I started this project.

The Kickstarter is getting ready to expire. Will I renew it or set up a new one? I don’t know. I might, I might not. It depends on whether I change my goals and how I change them. That will be discussed further below.

I am definitely leaving the GoFundMe up and running, because I am going to open a bookstore, it’s simply a matter of finding the way. 

Goal

I am going to crowdfund to open a small store. It will be a combination of a second hand and indie bookstore, farm market, and artisan crafts store. I already have seven farm market and artisans ready to work out contracts for spacing to sell their wares, more then a thousand used books boxed up and ready to go, plus several boxes of crafts.

Why a bookstore?

Prior to the car accident I wanted to open a bookstore. Then the accident occurred, and that was not an option at the time because of health problems. I didn’t stop collecting books for that purpose, with the thought that someday I would return to that goal in order to open that second hand bookstore like I wanted. 

Now I write books to publish and thought: wait, what if instead of just a second hand bookstore, I make it an indie bookstore and secondhand store? Perfect idea! I can sell mine, and other indie authors books.

Why a farm and artisan market?

The idea of the market has two different sources. 

The first is when I studied our community and realized there is nowhere besides the farm market to sell handmade crafts that are not paintings. That gave me the idea to combined my bookstore with an artisan craft store. 

The second is when I was speaking to a vendor at the farm market, one who makes both artisan crafts and farm market foods. She made a comment about wishing to have somewhere she could rent a space for a reasonable price. that gave me the idea to work with the farm market vendors. 

Thus far all but two have committed. Those two stated that they would consider it if I successfully acquire the building. There are still more to be spoken with. 

Why both GoFundMe and Kickstarter?

GoFundMe - I am familiar with it, there is no time limit, and goals can be adjusted as needed. Beyond that, the GoFundMe is for individuals who would like to give to the project now, because they don’t know that they will have the money later. All money from it will go towards the goal of opening the store in some form, whether in advertising, product, or bills.

Kickstarter - it is an all or nothing funding. If I hit the goal, I have to open the store. Which if I hit the goal, I will definitely open the store because I will buy my building to do so. Yes, the time is getting close for the first one, perhaps I will change programs or goals. 

There was some confusion with an individual earlier about how I would give the money back if the store failed. They didn’t seem to comprehend that is not how Kickstarter works. With Kickstarter, if I hit the goal, and I open the store, I have done as promised, no refund needed. If I hit the goal but don’t open the store, that’s when I have to issue a refund.

What if you are unable to get the building in the image?

That’s when I move on to plans B or C. In other words, that’s when I buy one of the other buildings I have picked out, those that might not be as great for the goal but would work over all.

What makes building one better then two or three?

Location! It’s in a great spot for my needs.

Size, it is three times bigger then building two and four times bigger then building three.

Apartments in the upstairs. That means I can update them sooner then later with any extra money after stocking the store and rent them out. Renting just one of them out would make the buildings monthly mortgage with the amount of money I have planned to put down, renting out both would also pay the electric, gas, and trash removal.

Extra rooms beyond the store that can be rented to artisans who might wish to have a new space or bigger space to work in.

Some of the extra rooms can also be used to host various classes, either by artisans, tutors, or even myself for creative writing.

Three to Five are part of Six: renting out the spaces and offering classes will make it so all the stores profits go into further stock and employees. Insuring that there is plenty to sell and that it continue on.

Then why have plans B and C if A is so good?

Someone else might buy A. In that case it’s a good idea to have a plan B and C. There aren’t a lot of buildings for sale in the area, and I would rather not rent or lease, as I want control over the building, that only happens if I own it.

Plans B and C are also for if the first doesn’t work out for a different reason. For instance, perhaps I have a investor who is willing to back purchasing a smaller building.

Investors

I am reaching out to various angel investors as well. Yet another way to try and fund this. There is a long list of individuals for me to contact who help small businesses get off the ground.

Depending on investors, I may change building plans if one is willing to work with of the smaller ones. Would it be as profitable as the larger building? No. However, I would be able to build up the smaller store, then either try again to get my plan A building if it is still on the market, or find a different bigger building. After all, the real estate market is always changing. 

If you would like to be an investor, even a small one such as fifty dollars, please use my Contact Me form. It’s primary purpose is for commissions, but it also covers other questions and communications off this website. 

Loans

Why don’t I try getting a business loan? That requires a decent credit score, which I would need a job to get. It is the lack of job due to my disabilities that has caused me to take this route. 

Do you have a business plan?

Yes, though it’s hand written because that’s how I roll. Actually, I have several, because I kept redrafting it as I considered new details and points. It evolved! 

I keep each to make sure details that are needed are not lost in the rewrites. 

Do you have a budget?

Why yes I do! Checked multiple times, to make sure the math isn’t off. It is based on building costs, bills (gas, electric, trash, accounting), employee pay, advertising prices, permits, equipment, and stock.

A basic form of it can be found at the bottom of my Kickstarter. If you’d like to discuss it, I am open to doing so. I have a projected finances excel, I will be creating a google sheets version as well, and will be updating it as I receive new information. 

You have several disabilities, how are you going to do this?

With help. That’s why there is employee pay as part of the costs. I know I physically can’t do it alone, so I will pay someone to help me. I’ve already spoken to that person, we have an agreement set out and a pay schedule.

Why should we back you?

At the end of the day, I can’t tell you what to do, nor would I. What I can tell you is this:

I managed to get my family from 50k in debt to 10k in debt in 4 years (love the parents, they’re not the best at finances, plus there was that entire stroke that just added to the mess of bills) - so I know how to balance a book and raise money.

That does not count the times I asked for help for myself, only the family as whole’s situation. After all, hard to balance my own books with no money coming in during those months I did not have any commissions or ghost writing.

I was trained as a store manager

I have a bachelor’s degree in business administration

I’m a fast study

If you are an indie author, I’ll sell your books. That means I buy several copies to sell, so you automatically get paid, and then if they do well, I buy more copies to sell. 

You’ll be helping a small business get started

You get a personalized signed copies of my book, yes they are digital copies but I will still be making the signing for each personal, scanning them in, adding them to the file and sending them off. 

You help a disabled writer stop living with the constant worry of how to pay the bills and when will the next need to ask for help happen. Thus I stop needing to ask for donations every time life goes sideways because I barely have enough to live before that happens.

I am also a firm believer in paying it forward, so once I am no longer stuck in the cycle of I have no money, I am barely paying the bills, and I have to ask for help, I will be able to help others who may need it. 

You’ll get updates on the business, what the current specials are, and even coupons for online purchases from time to time. 

For those who do more then the twenty five dollar pledge, they will get signed copies of more then just my first two books. Every five past twenty-five will get one more book, unless told to stop. Example: If you do fifty dollars, you get the initial two plus five more personalized signature books. 

I have done a lot of research, this isn’t just a whim, it’s not a lark, while most my notes are hand written, they are repeatedly checked as I wish to make sure that I am successful. Once it is open I do not want to have to ask a second time for help with it. 

For those that indulge in the season: it is the season of giving.

All I can ask is you take a chance. Money is important, as it funds everything. Sharing the GoFundMe or Kickstarter is just important as it shows it to new people. All I ask is you take a few moments to share this, the GoFundMe or the Kickstarter. I understand however, if you are not willing or able to. 

Thank you all for reading this,

Jaimi

12/21/18